Certainly, there
must
have been sexual activity taking place almost every day in an apartment complex of such size as ours. It was strange, though, after having spent two semesters living in the dorms, that I had not heard the sounds of sex coming through the walls or the windows since we had moved into the apartment.
I commented on that one morning as Eric and I both tried to ignore the alarm clock radio.
"Well, you know what it was like where I lived before," he said, and he was right. His former residence was not on a university campus, but it was indeed close enough -- and cheap enough -- that many students lived at his apartment building, and whenever I had visited, at least once I would hear the sounds of people having sex. The last time I had been there, I had even seen a flyer posted advertising an open BYOB orgy for that night, and even though Eric's apartment had been on the opposite end of the building, the cries and the bellows were plainly heard as we both tried to pretend that such sounds were not arousing.
At that time, my big brother and I had not been lovers.
On this particular morning, laying naked next to each other and trading gentle caresses, we very much were fated lovers. We were procrastinating fated lovers, as neither of us really wanted to get out of bed yet to begin the day, but we were fated lovers nonetheless.
Perhaps it was because of that early-morning listening-to-the-day's-first-traffic-report conversation that Eric decided to drop me off at the university that morning, and once we were in the car using "that" playlist on his iPod. Needless to say, by the time we arrived on campus, I was horny, and his patting the inside of my left thigh just underneath the hem of my skirt did not help.