Dramatic License

"You know why," she said, ducking out of the shower.

Sarah wasn't a big fan of experimentation. She was happy when her room's door was blocked against undue intrusion and we did it on her bed, missionary-style. "It's more comfortable this way," she always said. Comfortable for her, yes, and fucking her felt good, but after two years of this, the novelty had worn thin. I sighed, rinsed myself off one last time and, wrapped into a towel, I joined her in her room. She used her desk chair to block the door handle from moving, then she slid onto her mattress, spreading her legs invitingly.

"Come here, stud," she purred, smiling my way. I dropped the towel and joined her on the bed, kneeling between her spread thighs. Bending forwards, I placed a wet smooch onto her pussy, causing her to raise her hips and giggle appreciatively. My tongue parted her folds. She was in a good mood, despite our earlier argument, and her pussy already was pretty wet. I licked her for a few moments before moving up and lining my dick up with her entrance. She wrapped her legs around my hips and pushed. Slowly, deliciously, I slid into her, accompanied by her moans.

"Remind me," she sighed, "why we're not doing this more often."

"No time? Homework? Band practice? Too many reasons," I grumbled. She pushed her pelvis up, forcing me deeper into her. We groaned in unison, it felt that good. How long had it been? I honestly had lost track. My pelvis brushed against her pussy lips. I was in all the way and it felt so good, so right. Sarah sighed happily too and pulled me closer for a kiss.

"So good," she whispered, keeping perfectly still. Somewhere in the distance, a phone rang.

I pulled out halfway and pushed back in, savouring every inch of the way. She liked what I did, going by the soft little whimpers she made.

Knocks on the door. "Sarah? Phone for you!"

"You gotta be kidding me," she groaned at me. Louder, she yelled, "Who is it?"

"Your mom. Bad time?" I could picture her dorm mate's lewd grin.

"Let's continue this later," Sarah panted, pulling me as deep into her as she could. "Okay?" Louder: "I'll be there right away!"

"Can't you just stay here?" I asked, frustrated. I knew a phone call from her parents would take ages.

"You know I can't. It's my parents," she hissed. "Get off me."

Grumbling, I pulled out of her and let her dash from the bed. She grabbed a robe and rushed out of the room, leaving me with a throbbing hard on. When she wasn't back five minutes later, I resigned myself to my fate, put on fresh clothes and joined her in the living room. Sitting in an armchair, wrapped in her robe, Sarah was animatedly talking with a member of her family. To add insult to injury, the minder in charge of the dorm showed up, which meant that I couldn't even stay the night and finish what we started.

Half an hour later, Sarah was finally done. Any thoughts of sex were forgotten because the minder dragged her into the kitchen for some serious talk, which would no doubt include the topic of me hanging out at the dorm all the time. I called Sylvia. She picked up and breathed a warm "Hello?" into the receiver.

"Hey, it's me. Chris." I wanted to keep this strictly professional.

"I thought you'd never call," she said. I knew the tone, that slightly teasing lift in her voice.

"Listen, I need to re-schedule. Saturday doesn't work."

"Your girlfriend didn't say so. Besides, I've already told everyone. It won't look very professional if I were to call them again a mere hour after we set the date."

"Thanks for asking me first," I growled.

"If you hadn't run out on me, we could have cleared that up beforehand," she said, her earlier playfulness replaced by something strange in her voice, something dark. "So, this is partially your fault. Saturday it will be, half past eight. Talk to you tomorrow." Then the line was dead.

Sighing, I replaced the receiver. That could have gone better. I returned to Sarah's room. Naturally, she wasn't happy when I told her how my phone call had panned out.

"I really was looking forward to that concert," she said, sitting on the bed.

What had happened in the last few hours to make my life so complicated? Oh yeah. A twenty-six-year old bombshell had practically devoured my mouth and she had let me know, in no subtle way, that she would go even further, given half a chance. Not something I should tell my already stressed-out girlfriend. I needed to talk to Sylvia, straighten things out. And if all else failed, I would have to quit this drama club of ours before it even had started. I hoped it wouldn't come to that. Despite her strange behaviour earlier, I liked Sylvia as a person, the idea of being involved in a big play intrigued me, and I hated to walk out on people when I said I would help them. It made me look like a jerk.

"I will talk to her tomorrow, see if she changes her mind," I said, patting Sarah's thigh. "And now I should be off. Your minder wanted me gone half an hour ago. I hope we can pick up soon where we left off."

She rose and hugged me close. "Postponed, not forgotten. How about Saturday, after the concert?"

"I'll remind you," I said, waving a threatening forefinger in her face.

She snatched it with her lips and gave a playful suck. "No need. I'm looking forward to that as much as you are," she said with a giggle once she released it again. "Now off with you. I don't fancy another of her sermons about you wasting our electricity and water."

I pulled on my semi-dry jacket and shoes and prepared to leave.

"Hey, wait," Sarah said, snatching my hand. "I almost forgot. University sent a letter. We've got us an apartment!"

"What? When?"

"Next June. Isn't that awesome? We can live together. No more interruptions when doing it," she said with a dazzling grin.

"Fantastic news. And I can finally get out of that hell-hole I live in." I hugged her close. Things really didn't look all that bad.

* * * *

The next morning, a dreary and cold-grey Thursday, Sylvia wasn't at her usual spot when I arrived at University. I checked my watch. Usually, she was already there when my bus dropped me off and I wasn't late. Maybe she had overslept? I waited until I had just barely enough time to complete my walk to the Language Tower. She wasn't in the classroom either when I arrived, at the same time as our Creative Writing tutor. She shot me a questioning look.

"Sylvia not with you? Did you argue or something?"

I looked at her in surprise.

"Normally, the two of you are inseparable. I was just wondering."

I was about to tell her to mind her own business, when the door opened and Sylvia came in. Her hair hung down her back in wet, dishevelled tangles. She didn't wear any of her customary dark red lipstick and her jacket and blouse didn't match.

"Overslept," she said by way of apology, but if it was to me or our tutor, I couldn't say.

"Lucky for you, I just got here myself. Didn't do roll call yet," the tutor said, sitting down behind her desk.

Sylvia flopped onto the chair next to me, pushed a few errant hairs behind her ear and grinned at me. "Say it."

"You never oversleep?"

"Yeah. First time for everything. Must have had a little too much wine yesterday. Let's talk later."

"Yes please," the tutor cut in, handing out our assignments for the day. We were to describe a random person from the room and put him or her into an imaginary scene. I sighed inwardly. Getting up and leaning into one of my co-students to get a good look at them would totally give away who I had picked. So I just picked Sylvia and turned her into a mermaid, describing her wet hair framing the shell bra straining to keep her cleavage in check and the emerald green fish tail languidly churning the waves while she waited for her Prince Charming in the sunset. The alotted hour was over far too quickly.

"Okay, now exchange your papers with your chosen 'model'," our tutor commanded. "He or she will read it to the class and judge if you did him or her justice."

I nudged Sylvia and passed her my paper. She skimmed over it, a grin tugging at a corner of her mouth, then she rose and handed someone at the other end of the room a paper.

"Here," someone said next to me and handed me a page. "I've written extra-large, so you can read it. I hope." I looked up. A petite blonde girl stood next to me, wearing a jeans jacket over a brightly colored t-shirt. "I think you'll like it," she said. "And I'm Jessie."

"Nice to meet you," I said. She nodded and slipped away into the fog, beyond my usable eyesight, becoming a blurred shadow amongst the others.

Sylvia slid back into her chair, after chatting with someone off to the side. I busied myself with Jessie's page and smiled. She imagined me as Apollo, golden hair shining in Olympus' eternal sunshine, who got tired of the lute and invented the electric guitar instead. I liked that very much and made a mental note to chat with her should I ever find the opportunity.

"Everyone got their papers? Good. Chris, you're first."

I read Jessie's page to the class, trying my best to keep a straight face for the grande finale.

"So? What do you think?" our tutor asked.

I raised my fist and made the devil horns. "Totally!" I said in my best James Hetfield voice, earning some laughs and a squealed 'Heavy Metal!', probably from Jessie.

"Hey, you got fan mail," Sylvia said, not the least bit amused. She turned the page around and tapped it. I looked closer. The back, which I hadn't bothered to check, read:

"Here's my phone number. Let's talk music some time, Apollo."

I looked at Sylvia, but she was busy sorting her pages. She had gotten more than one. The first one she read described her as a moll, smoking a cigarette while cleaning her Thompson after a shoot out. The second one turned her into a model, parading expensive furs down a runway in Paris. Then she stopped.

"Your verdict?" the tutor asked.

"I don't do furs," Sylvia said, deliberately tearing up the page. "And I have people doing the gun cleaning for me." Laughs all around. "Apart from these two tiny things, well done. And I think someone else should go on, or you'll be hearing my voice all morning." More laughs as she waved more pages around.

The rest of class flew by as we heard more descriptions, from the inane to the poetic, the generic to the outright erotic.

Our tutor laughed out loud. "Romeo, turn down the heat. This is the classroom, not the bedroom. But I have to say, well written. How are his chances of that happening?"

The girl who had read a steamy description of herself naked, on a picnic cloth amidst colorful flowers, giggled. "I dunno," she said, before erupting into another giggle fit. "Maybe." I could hear her blush, in how she stretched the word.

The bell rang, signalling the end of class. "And that's a wrap. All those of you who're in Professor Kaiser's course, listen up. The professor is sick today, course is cancelled."

That was our Reading Comprehension course. The opportunity I needed. I turned to face Sylvia. She cleaned up her space and put some papers into her bag.

"Since you overslept, you didn't have any breakfast. How about I invite you? We can talk then."

"No."

"Why not?"

Sylvia sighed in exasperation. "I'm tired, my head thumps like crazy and I'm not hungry. If you need to talk so badly, you can take me home and we can talk on the way."

"Excuse me," someone cut in. I turned towards the voice and recognized Jessie. "Ummm... did you get my message?" she asked. "The one on the back..."

"Yes, he did. Now shoo," Sylvia snapped.

Jessie flinched as if someone had slapped her. "He's not your property, you know," she hissed.

Sylvia rose from her chair, inhaling sharply. I did too, catching Sylvia's hands.

"That little-" the furious redhead began. I heard quick steps receding.

"What's up with you?" I asked Sylvia. "That's so unlike you!"

"No idea," she said, embracing me. My head ended up on top of her breasts. Her hands slid down my back and grabbed my butt. "Hmmm, that's nice."

"Come, I'll take you home," I offered, gently breaking her embrace. She ground her pelvis against mine one last time and when I could look into her face again, she wore a bright, knowing smile. Yeah, I got hard, but who wouldn't?

Quietly, we left the Language Tower. At some time during Creative Writing, the grey clouds had opened up and slivers of blue laced the sky. We walked side-by-side and I had my cane out. In this light, I could see well enough ahead, but the fallen leaves everywhere had the nasty habit of concealing pot holes. I made sure to check with the cane's tip where I stepped. It was pretty cold, so I had my free hand buried in the pocket of my jacket. Sylvia suddenly threaded her hand through the nook of my elbow.

"Is this the way one guides a blind man?" she asked, acknowledging my handicap for the first time since we met.

"No, not really," I said. "Want to learn?"

"I should. Or do you know where I live?"

"Good point. Right now I can see where you walk though."

"Come, humor me."

"Only if you answer a question."

"I'm not sure if you are in any position to make demands," she said, her voice dangerously low.

"I could have just left," I said.

"For that trash can you call home?" she sneered. She got me there. Sarah and her dorm mates were still at school, so there would be no one to let me in and I didn't have any keys. School policy. Once you were out, you were out for good. But that wasn't the point. I was giving her a chance, after everything she did yesterday. A bit of slack would have been nice.

"Come on, don't be like that," I said, nudging her.

"Fine. Ask."

"Why didn't you read my page?"

"Later. Now show me how to guide you."

That wasn't the answer I wanted. Heck, that wasn't an answer at all. But what could I do? Maybe she would tell me once we reached her home.

"Here's how it's done. I'll take your arm just above the elbow. Use it to warn me of incoming danger, by nudging my hand into the direction you want me to go. No pushing me into the river, please," I said, trying to lighten the mood.

Sylvia caught on pretty quickly, navigating me around puddles, patches of slippery leaves and other people heading for the Language Tower.

We walked in silence for a bit, then I remembered why I was doing this.

"Hey, listen," I began.

"If you want to talk about yesterday and why I kissed you, can it."

"But-"

"I said 'can it'. I'll tell you, but not now, not here. Deal?"

"You're awfully difficult today," I complained. In response, Sylvia accelerated.

"Just a bit further now," she said, leading me off the main street we'd been walking along the last couple minutes and into an alleyway, past pre-WWII houses. I hadn't been in this part of town often. This was the "trendy" part of Marburg behind the University, newly restored houses with shared apartments, little coffee shops, book stores and vegan restaurants. She stopped in front of a beautiful white-washed house with green shutters, pulled out a key chain and unlocked the front door. Still not saying a word, she tugged me into the hallway and guided me up a creaking flight of stairs. On the second floor, she unlocked another door and led me into what I presumed was her apartment.

It was pretty dark in the main hall and smelled of flowers. Sylvia shrugged off my hand and closed the door behind us, then she flicked on the light. Five doors led away from the hallway.

"Nice pad you got," I said. "It's huge!"

"Used to share it with a friend. She's done with Uni and left me the keys," Sylvia said, shrugging out of her coat. "Give me your jacket."

"I don't think I'll be staying that long," I said, folding up my cane.

"Nonsense. I owe you at least a cup of coffee. Besides, you wanted to talk, not me. Jacket."

"Oh well." I stashed my cane in my bag and handed it to her, followed by my jacket. Sylvia took my hand and guided me towards one of the doors. She opened it and we entered a small kitchen, barely wide enough to stand in side-by-side. One side held the stove and fridge, the other was entirely made of shelves. Ahead, under a window facing the door, was a table with four chairs. Crowded, but cozy.

"Sit. I'll fire up the coffee maker and change into something comfy," she said, busying herself at the shelves.

Still a bit uncomfortable, I slid onto one chair and watched her. With quick, precise movements, she poured coffee into the filter, filled the water tank and flicked the switch.

"Be right back." Sylvia slipped from the kitchen without bothering to close the door. I heard her rummage in another room. The gurgling of the coffee maker had a somewhat hypnotic quality to it. I didn't notice my mind had drifted off until her fingertips caressed my cheek.

"Hey."

I looked up, startled. She wore a dark red robe, just going to her knees, her hair pulled back into a long ponytail.

"Got your attention, huh?" Sylvia asked with a mischievous grin. Then she took my hand and pulled me to my feet. "You wanted to know what happened yesterday?"

Unsure of what to say, I just nodded. She took one of my hands. With the other, she parted the dressing gown, then placed my hand straight onto her sex. She wore panties, lacy ones by the feel of them. Sylvia moved my hand further, bending my fingers between her thighs. Her panties were soaked.

"That's what happened," she said, voice trembling, grinding my hand against herself. "Whenever I'm with you, this happens. I want you. So much."

"But.. why?" I tried to withdraw my hand, but she wouldn't have any of it, trapping it between her thighs. "You know I'm with someone else."

"I don't give a fuck," she hissed. Then she used her free hand to grab the back of my head and kissed me again with full tongue and all. She leaned into me, pressing as much of her body against mine as possible. I took a step back and bumped into the table. She followed suit as if she wanted to lay me right there on her kitchen table.

"Please," she gasped, breaking the kiss. "Just once."

"No!" I protested.

Her hands flew to my crotch, trying to get my fly open. I intercepted them and leaned into her, trying to get her off me. Like a madwoman, she tried to slip from my grasp.

This was getting ridiculous. "That's quite enough!" I yelled. She recoiled as if I hit her across the mouth, giving me enough room to get into a more vertical position. From there, it was much easier to push her off me. With all the struggling, her dressing gown was open completely. Apart from that lacy purple pair of panties, she was naked underneath. Not helping. I shook my head and growled at her.

"Like what you see?" she asked, almost as if she was seeking my approval. My heart thumped in my throat and I was a bit surprised at how horny I was. I took a deep breath.

"Listen. I won't sleep with you. Forcing yourself on me won't help," I said with much more patience than I actually felt. Yes, this was incredibly hot and being wanted this much felt awesome, but at the same time totally wrong. Sarah was never that forceful when she said she wanted 'it'. This was new, overwhelming. And wrong.

To my horror, Sylvia was crying. I let go of her hand. "Did I hurt you?" I asked, mortified. Maybe I had grabbed or pushed her too hard? She leaned against the shelves and swabbed at her eyes with the sleeve of her gown.

She sniffled and shook her head, pulling the gown closed around herself. "I'm a total idiot," she whispered, choking the words past a huge lump in her throat. "You must hate me."

"No. I don't hate you. You're confusing me, that's all." I pulled up a chair and sat down again. "Maybe I should quit the drama club, to make it easier for both of us."

"No!" she yelled. "Please, no."