Biblical Apples

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Chapter 5: Corinthians 3:3

For you are still of the flesh. For while there is jealousy and strife among you, are you not of the flesh and behaving only in a human way?

As he lifted up his briefs and jeans, and began to fasten his belt buckle, Frank Spinelli turned away from her, his mind giving the moment a high five.

Laying down on her side with her head propped up by her left hand, she puffed on a cigarette, the only item she wore at that moment, flicked its ash into the tray that rested atop the futon couch’s side table, and softly giggled. “Bet you can’t wait to tell your Boy Scout friends what I just did to you, right?” She sat up and bent forward to reach for her pantyhose, large breasts dangling like the cigarette that twitched as she spoke. “Someone’s all grown up now.” Her light laughter followed him out the door and down the hall. The closed door gave full reign to her amusement as she carefully pronounced each word of “Oh-my-God!” before she burst out laughing.


“Rosovich, open up! I know you’re in there.” Frank pounded on the door. “Come on, Ros, open the fuck up, you big bitch!”

Mike looked at the alarm clock, and it was 10:00 A.M., way too early for a college student to be getting up on a Saturday.

“I’m going to count to five, and if you don’t get this door, I’m going to set it on fire.”

Yeah, right, Mike thought to himself. What does he want anyway?

“One Mississippi, two Mississippi, three Mississippi, don’t make me do this, Ros; four Mississippi, five Mississippi. Okay, then, I’m coming right back.”

Mike flipped on his back, stared at the ceiling for a few moments, and all his senses were awake at this time, including his sense of smell. Popping out of his bed, he saw a piece of newspaper that was smoking and sending up a small flame right by his door. “What the fuck?” he yelled. Grabbing a towel, he beat out the flame, and then he heard a tenuous knock. He opened his door to see a grinning Frank holding a lighter and a bottle of rubbing alcohol.

“Hey, man,” Frank began, “I’m glad you’re here. Let’s go get some breakfast.”

“You little fuck! You set my fucking door on fire!”

“What can I say, Ros. I don’t like being ignored. Come on, let’s get some breakfast.”

Mike looked at the floor and shook his head. “Now how am I supposed to explain to Carol why my tile and my door is charred?”

“How am I supposed to explain to Carol, wah, wah, wah,” Frank mocked him further by rubbing the corners of his eyes with both fists. “If you spent less time kissing her ass, maybe you’d get a chance to poke it, you big faggot!”

This little fucker has helped me out a lot and never says no, but there are some times I just want to beat his ass, Mike thought. “You must have Don Corleone as an uncle or something to be talking to people the way you do. How come someone hasn’t just beaten your ass?”

“Good one, Ros. Real original. All Italians are in the Mafia. So you want to get breakfast with the wop or what?”


“Your problem is that you don’t know how to seal the deal,” Frank spoke through a mouth full of sausage and he pointed with his fork. “Everyone on six knows how hard up you are for Carol, especially Carol.”

“What do you mean everyone knows? And what do you mean, especially Carol?”

Frank took a big swig of orange juice, then continued. “Look, what you do with your dick is your business. You can keep pulling it in the bathroom, or you can open your eyes!”

“How do you know I pull it in the bathroom?”

Frank paused momentarily, and the grin returned. “You pull it in the bathroom? What’s your problem? Take me for instance.” He suddenly assumed an air of accomplishment as he blew on his knuckles and rubbed them on his plaid shirt.

“What about you?”

“Well, just this morning, right before our breakfast date, I got laid. It’s a great way to wake up!”

“I haven’t even seen you with a girl since I’ve known you the past two years. I think you might be queer.”

“Well, I’ve got to tell you, Ros. I don’t think Toots feels that way.”

“Who the fuck is Toots, your imaginary play friend?”

“Actually, Toots is Little John’s friend. She’s a commuter chick and a nympho. Since he introduced her to us, she’s been hanging out in the study and likes to show her appreciation, if you know what I mean.”

Mike began laughing. “Seriously, Frankie, you couldn’t come up with a better name than Toots?”

“I mean that’s what we call her. Little John introduced her, and none of us remember her name.”

“We?”

“Yeah, me, Fred, and Water J.”

“Now I know you’re full of shit. Fred. Really? Fred’s getting laid?”

“I don’t know what Fred is doing in there, but he’s gone in there with his camera. The fucker likes to take pictures. Maybe she’s modeling for him or something?”

“So basically, you’re housing a prostitute in the study room.”

“It ain’t like that, Ros.”

“Oh, really? Are you providing a place for her to stay?”

“Yeah, I mean, here and there this week.”

“Have you provided her with some food by any chance?”

“Yeah, I know I’ve brought up a tray for her a couple of times,” Frank admitted.

“So those trays I see you carrying out of here aren’t just for Little John?”

“Yes and no.”

“Yes and no, good answer, Frankie. Have you slipped her any money?”

“Well, I know that she hit up Fred the other day for a twenty.”

“Modeling fees?”

At this point, Frank’s nostrils flared, and he snapped. “Who are you anyway, the moral police?”

“Frankie, I’m someone who will eat breakfast with you, hang out with you once in a while, but I will not take advice from you. I still haven’t been to see your living arrangement, and now I’m not sure that I want to.”

As they walked back to the elevator, Mike noticed that Frank didn’t bus his tray and instead was carrying it under his arm. “Hey, if you keep up this pace, there won’t be any trays left in the cafeteria.”

Frank laughed and said, “Oh shit. I forgot to put this back up. See what happens when I get upset? You said some hurtful things in there.”

“Oh, but I’m the faggot whose room you tried to set on fire, but I can’t say what’s on my mind because it may hurt your feelings?”

“Whatever. Come by sometime this weekend, and I’ll show you the room and maybe introduce you to Toots and Little John.”

The two parted ways, and Mike watched as Frank went to his room, carrying another cafeteria tray under his arm.


Mike sat in his window which contained just enough of a sill to support one butt cheek if the other foot was on the ground to keep it in-place. Below him was the roof of the cafeteria, but beyond that was the same view afforded by the cafeteria but more expansive given its greater height. With afternoon approaching, ducks and geese stood out more prominently than people. A stiff breeze was visible through the movement of the trees and the occasional splintering of the water on Brew Pond. The sky was an icy blue with no clouds, so he decided to go out for a walk and pick up a pack of Merits at the Hillview Plaza.

The first week back often was the first weekend that students who lived close enough went back home. It was too early for floor parties, and Oktoberfest was still a month away. In the middle of the bridge, The Wordman paused to open up his cigs and fire one up. He took a long drag and rested his arms on the railing, taking in nature’s metamorphosis.

A few people were on towels by the lake, throwing pieces of bread toward the geese and the ducks. The competition became fierce as wings fluttered, and quacking and honking invaded the white noise formed by the . Both species thought nothing of taking food out of one another’s beaks. Wearing her fall brown, a blonde-headed coed shrieked as one of the ducks sneaked behind her and bit her hand hoping to grab a morsel before it became public. The male who was in her company laughed, causing her to turn around and gently slap him on the shoulder before he took flight and she ran after him, trying to grab the hood portion of his sweatshirt.

The Wordman felt the nearness and sudden draft created by a newly-arriving duck that was in a swooping pattern in keeping with his view. As if receiving its clearance, the duck landed on the back of another and began a furious pumping motion that had them both audibly breathing hard. In a matter of seconds, the duck on top ceased its thrusting, flapped its wings anew, and took flight.

“Boy, I want to be a duck in my next life,” Andy said after he had taken in the same scene. “That duck still doesn’t know she got fucked.” He laughed as he slapped hands with Mike.

“Y.A., what’s up?”

“Nothing much, Word. Probably going to read a few chapters this afternoon and maybe roll a joint later. Hey, but in the meantime, let me have a cigarette.”

Andy joined Mike, elbows on the bridge railing, and after biting his lower lip, said, “I had to come up with an example of irony the other day in my English class, so I thought of this place.”

“I’m not sure what that has to do with anything, but what did you come up with?”

“Well, Brew Pond is full of ducks and geese, but it’s the humans that play Duck-Duck-Goose.”

“I love that! You got anything for the fish?” He laughed as he pointed to several patient carp floating beneath some ducks.

“Yeah, I thought you would. There’s plenty of fish out there, and it’s like what we just saw with that duck. Let life come to you, I guess.” He took a long drag and threw his cigarette butt into the water, rousing the curiosity of the carp, then watched as their hope died. “See you later, Word.” The breeze imaged waves on Andy’s blue windbreaker as he walked down the north side of the bridge.

In the tranquility of lonesomeness, the Wordman resurfaced, and he pulled out and lit another cigarette to keep his thoughts company. Taking a drag, he let out the smoke, and as an afterthought he spit into the lake. Resting on his forearms, he watched as his offering created a brief disruption and ceased to exist. After a few moments, his forearms hurt from supporting his weight on the railing. This made him think of the people who wear jackets with patches on their sleeves. This made him think of Carol walking with that guy. He stopped torturing himself, and he looked at his watch which read 12:30. He began making his way back to the dorm intent on reading some chapters in his psychology book, looking at his feet along the journey.

Thirty yards behind him and working her way up the bridge, Donna Bennett stopped in the middle where Mike had been and looked vaguely at the water. She reached into the pocket of her jeans and pulled out the chain and locket, opened it, and looked at the picture within. Kissing the memory, she snapped it closed, held it over the water, tried to avoid acknowledging the rippling face staring up at her, dropped it, and watched to be sure that its weight would carry it downward. As the fish poked and prodded, unable to construct meaning, the locket flickered one last moment, grasping at the sun, until it settled into obscurity. With clarity restored to the pond’s surface, Donna saw herself witness the talisman depart from her world, wiped away the beginnings of tears, and began a light-hearted running to catch up to the present.

“Guess who!” a soft female voice said as it interrupted Mike’s journey at the north end of the bridge. The voice was accompanied by strong hands, which managed to cover his eyes, and a torso which gently ground into his, rendering him a willing captive, but as he maneuvered his body, he realized that a fight would be his only recourse should he really choose to escape, so he gave in. At this point, he analyzed his situation, and the nerve receptors in the small of his back felt the cushiony pressure. His neck felt the warm breath of his abductor, so gently prying apart the hands that covered his eyes, and turning around so that their torsos met, he looked into the eyes of Donna Bennett who still had her hands wrapped around his mid-section and was now within kissing distance. She wore her playful, watch-us-do-laundry smile to overdress a plain gray sweat suit.

Mike’s instincts took over, and he bent toward kissing her which is what he believed the situation dictated.

“Whoa, Big Boy,” Donna ordered. “Where did that come from? The game is Guess Who,” she reminded him, all the while smiling a wide smile.

Where is she going with this? he thought. There was an awkward silence for about five seconds as Donna distanced herself from the closeness she created.

“So you’re stuck here this weekend as well?”

“Yeah,” Mike said, “I’m just going to try to make the best of it and do some reading to get ahead early on.”

“This is going to sound forward, but Mary has a date with John, and I’m hoping you might be up for some company. I’ve got to study, too,” she revealed. “ Donna anticipated his response by tilting her head sideways like a child peeking around a corner.

Her manner mixed innocence with sexuality, a playful teasing that was uniquely hers, and Mike thought about his conversation with Kurt. “You can come by whenever you want. Kurt is home for the weekend, so neither one of us would be treading on anything he’d be doing.”

“So is this our first date?” Donna laughed.

“Yeah, just remember I don’t dance.”

“That’s a shame, but I guess we can start out by being study buddies,” she suggested.


Back in his dorm room, Mike took stock of the image it presented. He picked up a couple of underpants and socks that had yet to hit the laundry basket, and then he surveyed the room. Beyond the foyer which housed the closet area and a big mirrored dresser, there was an 11-by-13 expanse that allowed for two single beds, two desks at the end of each bed, and the window which provided a view. He had purchased some shag carpeting which covered most of the linoleum and a portable television that he kept on a stand near the window. Kurt’s contribution was a floor lamp and his shelf stereo system. There was an Elton John Caribou poster and an “If I Want Your Opinion, I’ll Beat it out of You” poster that Mike cherished and hung at the head of his bed. The gorilla’s expression was emphatic, and he admired its sense of commitment. After taking this inventory, he looked at his blue jeans and t-shirt and again thought about getting Kurt’s help.

By 9:00 o’clock that evening, he had given up on the idea of Donna appearing at his door. Elton John was singing some love song on the radio, something about young lovers starting as friends, and Mike was feeling a little sorry for himself when a knock brought hope with it.

Donna, true to her word, lugged an anatomy book from her nursing program. She didn’t do anything to her appearance that might suggest a hidden agenda, but Mike took note of how her clothing, jeans and a t-shirt, stretched the limits of her curvaceous body. Again the sparkle and twinkle that were her eyes and smile were more than enough make-up.

“Sorry I’m here so late, but they just got back, so I thought I wouldn’t impose upon you until I had to.” She looked about the room and placed a hand to her mouth, stifling a laugh. “This is so 1970′s guy-in-a-basement.”

“There is no way you could be an imposition,” Mike extended his chivalry, all the while trying to pinpoint her design statement. “Come on in. I’m sorry that my roommate and I don’t have much decorative taste, but you got his bed to stretch out on.”

“Thanks.” Donna entered and placed herself on Kurt’s bed. “For what I need tonight, this is perfect.”

After scant moments of her being in the room, he picked up the pleasant scent of Donna’s body, like freshly-lit incense gently announcing its presence. Why does she smell so good and so different? he wondered.

For the next hour, the two engaged in their respective disciplines, but Donna also emitted a body heat that was palpable from across the room, and he became enthralled. I’m no better than that duck from this afternoon, he thought.

“Hey, I’m not really into this anymore,” Donna interrupted. “What do you say we take a break, or better yet, call it an evening, at least for studying?” She went over to his bed, plopped herself next to his left side and said, “So let’s talk.”

“Okay, Mike agreed, “you start.” God, she’s so confident and natural, he thought.

“Hey,” she cut to the chase, “do you have a girlfriend?”

“I really haven’t met the right person, so no.” He felt a scary kind of relief through her ability to move things along.

“Oh,” Donna said, “so you’ve never had a girlfriend?”

“Not in the real steady relationship going-out-kind-of-sense. What about you?”

She looked at him with something resembling curiosity, biting her lower lip and putting a crease in her brow. “I broke up with my boyfriend from high school last summer, right after my freshman year. We had been together for three years. He moved to California.” The fingertips of Donna’s right hand briefly touched the area between her breasts.

“I’m sorry. That has to have been an emotional ride for you.”

“Yeah, but it’s time to move on,” she said, and somehow she seemed to be even closer to him than her original positioning. “It’s funny. We’ve always said hello and have kind of known each other for the past two years. I’ve always found you so sweet.” At this point, she placed her right hand on his inner thigh, leaned forward, and lightly kissed his cheek, sending little electrical pleasure waves throughout his body and making the hairs on his neck stand up. Then she said softly in his ear, “I wanted to kiss you, too, this afternoon.”

He leaned to his left and returned the kiss, first gently on her lips which she obligingly parted, and then offering more as his tongue lightly massaged hers. She reciprocated, wetter, deeper, and stronger than that of his.

“Mike,” Donna lightly pushed him away after a few seconds, still maintaining contact with her hands on his upper arms. “I might need somewhere to stay tonight. I really like you, but I don’t want to move this fast. If you think you can handle a softer, gentler roommate, can I stay on Kurt’s bed?”

Does not wanting to move this fast mean she’s eventually going to let me have sex with her? Mike tried to read between the lines. “Of course, you can stay here, Donna.”

“Hey, you want to spend some time together tomorrow?” she suggested. “I’ve got an old car on campus, but it gets from point A to point B. Maybe we can grab lunch or something? Maybe I can help you redecorate,” she laughed.”

They spent the rest of their evening watching television with Donna positioning herself by leaning her back into his chest and grabbing his arms to wrap them around her waist, her hands on top of his, interlocking fingers. The fresh smell of her hair and the warmth of her body bathed him at intervals. He thought of his childhood when he’d be in the shade watching the sun break away from the clouds and rush toward him, lighting up the sidewalk, square-by-square, and how he would turn to race it as though he had any chance to get away. Everything felt so comfortable to him as if they’d known each other forever, but the closeness, the touch of her hands, and her soft breathing soon began a stirring in him that grew embarrassingly stronger. Oh, God! She has to be feeling this, he thought.

After a few moments of his involuntary infringement, Donna re-positioned herself by sliding her body forward, and as she picked up Mike’s left hand she said, “It feels so cozy in your arms, but I’m going to go over to my side, Roomie. It’s getting late, and I’m tired. I sometimes wear this as a nightie.” She pointed to her t-shirt as she stepped out of her jeans and hung them over the desk chair, revealing her firm, strong legs. “Good night, Mike.” Her footsteps softly swept the carpeting as she walked back to his side and kissed him on the cheek, leaving the warm and wet feel of her lips to secure him, to deliberately evaporate and hover in his mind.

Fucking Spinelli is right, he thought. I really don’t know how to seal the deal. He thought of being 20, and he thought of the secret he kept from everybody and the desperation that came with it. She’s in her panties and a t-shirt for God’s sake! He barely slept throughout the night as he listened to Donna’s breathing.


The warm water filtered through her thick hair like the early rapids of a mountain stream, settling behind her shoulders, flowing over her breasts, and trickling onto the curves and crevices of her feminine landscape. Her soapy hands glided with the comfort of familiarity, workman-like in tending to the mundane areas but deliberate in their treatment of those untouched by the sun. They squeezed her breasts together, letting the foamy soap bubbles meet, and the fingers of the right hand reached between her legs, gliding over, penetrating, and then gliding over again. Donna slid open the flimsy partition, water still running, and wiped the fog off the mirror to ascertain who was looking back at her. She wrapped the towel around her, shut off the water, and whispered, “Please don’t judge me, Mike,” as she reached for the bathroom door.

At 9:00 A.M, Mike had awakened to the sound of the bathroom shower. Still groggy, he thought, What the fuck is Y.A. doing up so early? Then, looking at the other bed, he remembered. Is that Donna in the shower? It has to be because her jeans are still on the chair! Her bra and panties were there as well, and he remembered laundry day, the undies dancing together, and wondered if he was not ‘just anyone’.

The water stopped, and as he waited to greet her, he got up and grabbed a stick of gum from his desk. The door opened, and out stepped Donna with wet hair and a towel around her body. “Good morning, Sleepy Head,” she began. “I hope you don’t mind that I borrowed your tooth brush and took a quick shower.”

“Of course not,” Mike said as he swallowed his gum and took in her freshly washed face that smiled and radiated, holding a tiny dot of water on her nose with a youthful sweetness and innocence that crowded into a woman’s body, a body straining against the confines afforded by a skimpy towel.

“That’s good because it makes my morning breath minty.” She deftly did away with the distance between them, placed her arms around his neck, stood on her toes, and deeply kissed him. This move caused the towel to fall to the floor, leaving her completely naked in his arms, and she continued kissing him.

It must have fallen by accident. Maybe she doesn’t realize, Mike thought, and he gently broke her hold and hurriedly bent down to pick up the towel. In so doing, he found himself staring at a downy triangle of hair and smelling a hint of the perfume between her legs. He guiltily diverted his eyes downward and saw her pretty pink toenails. She must be so embarrassed, but why isn’t she saying anything? His hands began shaking as he got up and handed the towel to a naked woman as the sun caught up to him through his window.

Donna slapped it to the ground and burst out laughing, but maybe it was the beads of sweat on his forehead, the rickety cadence of his breathing, or his eyes looking to the side and downward that caused her to grasp his hands to still him and say, “Look at me, Mike.” He looked into her eyes, and they now radiated innocence lost, adapting to the atmosphere, and as she tilted her head upward to gaze into his, she saw a tentative and scared little boy standing on the platform at the deep end of the pool.

“Oh my God! You’ve never done this before, have you? Oh my God!” Her tone with each utterance carried a delicate and humane balance, going from surprise to kindness, and she hugged him to her tightly, but felt his tremors, and then stepped back. “I’m so sorry. I thought,” and as her voice trailed off, she covered her breasts by crossing her arms over them.

His silence confirmed her suspicion, but something within her shielded him from embarrassment at this revelation. He was silent at first, having jumped into the water, but when the ripples finished their journey, the courageous blue of his eyes returned to take her in.

“No, please, Donna, don’t. You’re so beautiful.”

She smiled and moved in again to hug him closely, pressing her breasts against him and saying, “I’m so lucky to be here with you. Will you let me make love to you?” Her eyes now shone with a nurturing kindness as she again looked up at him, and he felt the heat of her body beginning his baptism.

Behind him the sixth floor window again called the sun to witness as several of its slivers of light peered through openings in the Venetian blinds. Behind her the door was closed to a simpler world. His alarm clock read 9:03, the time that his time had arrived, and sharing this time, they faced each other with silence as their canvas.

In an ethereal light, he saw the compassion in her eyes, a satellite in her loving smile, and a warmth and scent evolving into an atmosphere. Her heart kept beat in union as if timing his, filling her breasts with sustenance, and she slipped her warm hands under his t-shirt, lifting it off and gently liberating his chest, pressing her skin against his. She let her fingernails lightly trace his sides, and then re-positioned their bodies so that he stood behind her, and she placed his hands over her breasts. She smiled up at him as he kissed her neck, reached back and ran the fingers of her right hand through his hair. He felt the little bumps all over her skin. His hands felt her heart drumming through the milk white areas of her breasts, announcing the moment. Her right hand took his and pulled it to the area between her legs. There was fullness and texture to the hair, and dampness had settled like dew. He felt a steamy temperature change as her fingers lay on top of his, and she used her middle finger to press his through, guiding it and him upward to feel and explore, and he heard her moan lightly, her nakedness becoming very real, and her arousal validating him. She turned around and hugged him tightly to her with one arm, wrapping her right leg around his bottom, grasping his hand with the other arm, now pushing two fingers through, holding his wrist and guiding an in-and-out motion, the silence of the morning unabashedly broken by the sound of her penetration. He stared in awe as Donna closed her eyes and thrust herself against his hand, soft ‘oh’s’, just beautiful notes, slipping from her lips on tiny breaths. She gently slipped off his fingers, grasped them, and placed them to her lips, kissing them. She stood on her toes to kiss him, tongue deeply exploring his mouth, sharing her scent and taste. She was primal, and he was naive, not understanding the glazed over eyes and her heightened state of arousal.

Working quickly, Donna pulled him by his belt buckle toward the bed’s edge and sat down. He closed his eyes and listened as its metal prison gate was flung open, and he caught his breath on the teeth of his lowering zipper, all the while hearing his heart beating in his ears in anticipation of being touched. She tugged his jeans below his knees, and standing up, she held his hands to balance him, stepped on his pants legs and then the toes of his socks to liberate him. He was afraid to look downward and simply stared into her eyes. She pressed her lips to his neck and lightly kissed him, and he felt her hands working below to slip down his underwear. Embarrassed, he closed his eyes again until a coolness of the air that he never knew existed let him know that he was naked. They both looked down, and Donna again took his hands so that he could step away from his briefs, step away from his shyness, and step into manhood with her grace. Turning her attention, she gently cradled him, smiling up at him as she answered his pulsations with light squeezes and covered him with diffuse warmth. And as he felt himself twitch in her hands and thought of how easily her touch alone could enslave him, she invited the boy to practice being a man and explore the majesty of her body, laying it down on the bed and grasping his hands to join her, her eyes smiling, her nurturing a choreography. “Everything you do will feel good to me,” she shared. Noticing his shaking hands, she added, “Just relax.”

It was the little creases and indentations which drew him as he kissed an ear, the jaw line introducing her long neck, and the rosy skin between her breasts. His mouth ventured downward, the soft skin of her belly, the creases of her thighs, and she bent her knees, unashamedly opening herself to him, the delicate flesh peering between two fingers. She parted the brush of his hair with the free hand, winding it as he paused to look between her fingers. And the scent of her arousal hit him with stunning suddenness, strong, raw and foreign, dense and intoxicating, leaving him unsure until the liquid richness slowly dissolved on his tongue, and her little noises rewarded the patchwork of his exploration and excused his machinations. He touched her as might a blind man, and fed from her like a hungry child. She crossed her feet, resting them on the middle of his back, and combed his hair with her fingers.

Donna grew ready, and reached up to kiss him, gently coaxing him to change positions with her. She hovered over him, purposefully handled him, her legs parting, and she smiled at him. He watched as she closed her eyes and lightly moaned as she descended slowly, meticulously lathered him, and solved the greatest mystery to-date in his life, the sensation of being inside a woman.

Years of anticipation and naive wonderment played accompaniment but conspired to abandon him. He was over-matched by the immediate otherworldly pleasure that went beyond anything from his imagination. The ensuing spasms, the eruptions, the flowing of his life from a body betraying him, and the pathetic whimper that came from his throat during the apex could not drown out the “Oh my God” that came just as quickly from Donna. But she continued moving over him and absorbing him and pleasuring him with the steady rhythm of her beautiful body. He felt himself shaking, flopping like a fish on a boat deck, filling her repeatedly, as it would not stop feeling so good. She moved up and down on him, rocked him back-and-forth, made circles with him, sending wave after wave of ecstasy from his toes to his taste buds as she kept pulling on the switch of a sensual electrocution. He watched in amazement as her breasts moved in frenzied circles, and he felt the weight of her strong body as it touched down on his, her warm thighs securing him like bookends. He didn’t deserve her doing this for him and couldn’t look at her as it was happening, feeling ashamed. But Donna lovingly giggled at him, her kind eyes knowing, accepting, and she said as she stopped and supported her glistening body with her hands on his chest, “Mike, look at me! It’s okay. Now you get to remember me forever.” He looked into her angelic eyes and panned downward to see their union, she having accepted his full length and now using her muscles to grip, release, and taunt him repeatedly, smiling as she said, “I might not let you go.” But seconds later her merciful loins slowly released him, and he watched himself reappear, waning, wearing the shiny film from her body, but far from meeting her needs.

“Wow,” she said, as she laid her warm body aside his, stroking his chest, “You’re just a beautiful man.”

Damn, Mike thought. She probably really thinks I’m such a loser. “I’m sorry,” he said, sensing her disappointment.

“I’m not, Mike.” Donna’s smile restored his pride. “I can’t wait to be with you again.” Then, she straddled his lower half by draping a leg over it and rested her arm across his chest, nuzzling his neck, planting an occasional light kiss, and falling asleep moments later.

Mike felt the weight grow as her sleep provided no support. He cupped her firm bottom with his hand, laughed at her little snore, closed his eyes, enjoyed her closeness, felt her warm breath, and dwelled on the irony of how someone so petite could play such a huge role in his life. He then remembered to thank God while basking in the aroma of her nakedness as even in her sleep she continued to give herself to him, removing any doubt that this had happened.


He hadn’t realized that they had fallen asleep until Donna said, “Hey, wake up. Look at the time.”

During their sleep, their bodies had moved so that she spooned behind him. He pretended to be asleep but glanced at the clock. It was 12:00 already. He enjoyed the feel of her bare breasts pressing into his back and how she had grasped his feet with both of hers. There scarcely was enough room on the dormitory bed to hold them both, but Donna had somehow managed to make the arrangement comfortable.

“Hey, wake up,” she said again. This time he felt her hand reach between his legs and firmly grasp him, but as she felt him becoming aroused, she stopped. “Hey, let’s go get something to eat and just get off this campus for a little bit. He turned around and watched her dress with yesterday’s clothes. “I’m sure it’s safe to go back to my room and grab a change of clothes.”

“You’re not going to shower first or anything?”

“What for? I just had a shower this morning, remember? Do I smell bad?”

“No reason. I just thought that after all we did…”

“After all we did, I want to wear all we did for a little while longer, Mike,” she interrupted him with a hint of impatience. “I can still smell your body on mine, taste you on me, and feel you inside me, and I like it. Why would I wash you away so soon? You can shower if you want.”

Mike pulled her back onto the bed and gave her a sheepish grin as he felt the arousal brought on by her words and kissed her, the feel of her lips and the taste of her mouth controlling him. She lifted up the cover to see him and quickly took off her clothes. It wasn’t fair; her long hair falling over him like stage curtains for the second act, her skin heating his, the incredible textures, the sweetness of her scents, and her body completely overwhelmed him once again. After his second apology, she began to laugh and started tickling his ribs before biting his ear and laying her head down on his chest to feel his heart beat.


Being the resident advisor was a convenient excuse for the frequency with which Carol Frazier looked out the peephole. Feet traipsing along the old carpet, muted conversation, and the sound of the summoned elevator, all were subject to her watchful domain, but not all merited the honor of her presence.

After a quick shave and shower, Mike found himself waiting alone by the elevator, not sure if he should knock on Donna’s door, but that idea left quickly.

“Hey, Mike.” Carol appeared out of her room which was directly across. “You decided to stay this weekend, too, I see.”

“Yeah, just getting some things done and trying to stay ahead.” He made small talk, all the while hoping that his experience with Donna would have set him free, but it did not. He wondered if she sensed what just happened to him and maybe saw him as more of a man. “I’ve got to graduate some day.”

“You think?” Carol laughed just as Donna appeared around the corner.

“You ready to go, Mike?” she asked. “Hey, Carol.”

“Hey, Donna. Guess I’m not the only one who’s bored this weekend.”

Donna placed a tight hug around Mike’s waist and turned toward Carol. She then patted Mike on his chest and said, “Oh, it’s been anything but boring for me.” The elevator door opened with timely precision, and as she and Mike entered, Donna looked back at Carol and said, “Weren’t you waiting for the elevator?”

“No, I mean yes, but I just remembered something I’ve got to get from my room. You guys go ahead, but thanks.”

After the elevator doors closed, Donna turned toward Mike and said, “I don’t think she was waiting for the elevator.”

Her countenance became the dominant presence as she looked straight ahead, lips pursed pensively. The images flashed in her mind, always the same, wet hair, rising steam, looking up at her, always looking up at her.

He debated whether to initiate the discussion which seemed to hover with a start button floating in space, but he chose silence, a state that seemed lengthier than four floors.

“It’s cold in the winter,” Donna broke the silence as they walked outside. “I need to have a man in my life, and I don’t want to be cold and lonely.” Her fingers drifted to that vacant spot between her breasts, and her other hand gently slipped into his to hold it for the world to see.

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