*Author's Note: Any persons engaging in consensual sexual activity are at least eighteen years of age.
Chapter 1
Bobby Boudreaux smirked at the 'Nerds, Dorks, and Losers' that gathered in the living room of his apartment. The group of them was all students at the university, except for Derek, his roommate. Derek was a graduate student, studying for his doctorate in Mathematics and Sciences, even though he was the same age as nearly everyone else in the living room. Except for Greg. Greg was a twenty nine year old veteran, having served in Afghanistan. Bobby thought he was weird, wanting to hang out with twenty and twenty one year olds. Actually he thought all of them were weird.
"Boudreaux, rent," Derek called out, reminding Bobby that he was already three months behind on rent.
Bobby gave Derek the finger and continued on to his room.
When Derek had posted the notice on the dormitory's bulletin board that he was looking for a roommate to share the expenses of a two bedroom, one bathroom apartment, Bobby had torn the notice from the board before anyone else could see it. The twenty year old had been looking for a way out of the depressing, gloomy, overcrowded dormitory and, thanks to a very vocal cheerleader; he'd been blacklisted from every fraternity on campus.
He had known that Cherri was the girlfriend of the president of the local chapter of Omega Sigma Mu, but that had mattered little to him.
Cherri was standing in the hallway, looking completely fuckable in her cheerleader uniform. Her blonde hair was tied up into two ponytails, 'handlebars' for a blowjob and he wanted her. He came up behind her, let her feel his nine inches of man meat pressing into her back, and whispered that his tongue was just as skilled as his cock.
Fortunately for him, Cherri had drunk enough of the party mix to be suggestible. Unfortunately for him, Cherri was a screamer, alerting everyone in the frat house that Bobby's tongue was indeed a very talented tongue.
Derek looked over Bobby's application, let him know he'd be in touch, and waited for more applicants. None ever came, so Derek was forced to give the arrogant, conceited, condescending Bobby the green light. As a teacher's aide and part-time tutor, Derek did not make enough money to afford an apartment on his own.
Bobby gave Derek the first month's rent, then decided that Derek could go fuck himself if he expected to see any more money out of him. They were also supposed to share the utilities, but Derek had yet to see a penny of money from Bobby for that either. Food expenses were supposed to be their own responsibility, but Bobby ate whatever he pleased and saw no reason to ever repay Derek or replace it.
Bobby flopped down on his bed and turned on his stereo. Morbid Angel ought to drive the Geek Group out of the apartment.
Derek got to his feet, walked to the panel in the hallway and through the breaker for Bobby's room.
"Hey, mother fucker!" Bobby yelled as his stereo died and his room was plunged into darkness.
"Uh, listen, Derek, it's getting kind of late," Terri said and gathered up her books.
"Yeah, uh, late," Sam echoed and helped the overweight Terri to her feet.
The two girls, roommates, walked to the door and left the apartment.
"Yeah, hey, we're going down to Hunter's, what about you?" Warren asked.
"Love to, totally broke," Derek groused.
"Oh yeah?" Tamara asked and elbowed him, hard in his ribs. "What you going down to Hunter's for?"
Hunter's was a strip club that hired a good number of its dancers from the college and from the college dropouts. Full nudity was displayed inside the dark building; touching was off-limits. Of course, what went on in the 'Champagne Room,' the exclusive room that three hundred dollar bought the patrons that was another story. If the dancer was okay with being touched, then touching was okay. Those that could afford the half-hour room did not balk at the opportunity to spend a half-hour with a nubile eighteen, nineteen or twenty year old girl.
"Hey, you see a ring on this finger?" Derek asked, showing Tamara his left hand. "No ring? I can look."
"Come on, Warren; they want to be alone," Greg snickered.
"What the fuck happened?" Bobby demanded as the door closed behind Greg and Warren.
"Gee, I don't know," Derek feigned ignorance. "You forget to pay the electric bill?"
"Funny, cock sucker," Bobby groused and flipped the switch on the circuit panel, flooding the apartment with the loud cacophony of the heavy metal group.
"Turn that shit down," Derek yelled.
"Kiss my ass, loser," Bobby sneered.
"Get rid of him," Tamara demanded.
"Uh huh," Derek agreed.
"I mean it; your problem is, you're too nice. When's the last time he's paid anything?" Tamara went on.
"Um, let's see, never," Derek, admitted.
"So why you put up wit him?" she asked.
"Don't know," Derek admitted. "Greg's all hot to move in, but I can't have him move in until Bobby's out."
They cuddled up on the ratty old couch, kissing and whispering to each other. She froze when his hand strayed too close to her small breast, and then quickly got to her feet.
Derek respected the fact that Tamara had some very deep scars; any sort of sexual conduct brought on feelings of shame and revulsion in her.
She'd been molested by a next door neighbor, and when her father found out, instead of coming to his daughter's aid, started molesting her himself. Even after extensive therapy, Tamara believed that she had somehow brought it on herself, that she was to blame. She had not shared any of this with Derek, but it was obvious to the sensitive young man that Tamara had issues.
She was very short, only four feet, ten inches, with long brown hair and big brown eyes and a shy smile. Her breasts, what Derek could surmise; she always wore very baggy tops, were very nice, just about a handful. Her backside was nicely rounded as well. If she ever broke out of her shell of shame and dolled up, Tamara would be a very sexy little woman.
Derek hoped that engagement, or marriage would break the twenty year old out of her shell; he had the engagement ring in his dresser drawer.
****
"Hey Witchie-poo," Bobby taunted. "Where's the rest of the coven? Out flying on their booms?"
When he'd first moved in, Derek had tried to explain to Bobby the teachings of Pygathoras and the discussion group comprised of Greg, Warren, Samantha, Terri, Scott, and Tamara. All Bobby had retained from that, however, was the mythological beliefs that surrounded the philosopher and scientist. To Bobby, Mythology and witchcraft went hand in hand, so he labeled Derek as a witch.
"No witchcraft to it," Derek smiled sympathetically. "All things are related to numbers and equations; any alterations of those numbers alters the relationship and may or may not affect the equation as well, but not exclusively so. Some alterations do not alter the equation, just the integers"
"Bubble, bubble, toil and trouble," Bobby laughed.
"Hey, bitch, that's mine," Derek said as Bobby helped himself to a big bowl of cereal.
"Yeah?" Bobby sneered. "What'm I supposed to do? Already poured the milk, but if you want..."
Bobby moved to pour the bowl back into the box. Derek pulled the box out of Bobby's hand.
