In a Room Full of People

Even a guy with a high IQ can't stop his brain from short-circuiting. The words "What's not to like?" left my lips before the gentleman in me realized that I had even formulated the thought. Feeling that I should try and take a step back from a now half-naked Taylor in an effort to give her some form of personal space, I went to hand one of the Band-Aids to her. She just looked at it, and then me.

"Oh, no you don't! You said you were going to put them on. So go on, then."

Even without them being voiced, the words "put up or shut up" seemed to hang in the air. I was going to be desperately fighting a full-blown hard-on if I didn't concentrate on what I was doing. My mind had already started to recite the words of the 'Star-Spangled Banner,' both forwards and backwards, in an effort to keep myself from wandering into carnal territory.

Taylor giggled. When I looked at her she had that 'hands on hips' gesture going full on. "Your hands are shaking, Mitchell Cromwell. Why is that?"

It was plain to see that she was baiting me with the question, yet something else about Taylor Dennison changed at that moment. The bravado was gone: this was the woman behind that mask. Just as she had shed her sports bra, that public persona that everyone saw had been replaced with the true woman within her, the one part of us we only ever reveal to the people we truly trust.

An inner peace seemed to leak out of her just then and envelop me within its grasp. I was standing in front of a half-naked Taylor Dennison, and she trusted me enough to not take advantage of that fact. I gulped, and she giggled again. I stared, and the man in me mentally measured her up as being that middle ground between a B and a C-cup which complemented her body just perfectly, the slight sag allowing your eyes to follow her natural curve and rest contently on her darkened nipples.

Her chest swelled when she figured it out. My hands met warm tender flesh and Taylor sighed before catching herself. It also added to the thought of "how did I get myself into this situation?" For crying out loud, I had a hand on each of Taylor Dennison's breasts! I knew most of the male heterosexual population of this college would kill to be where I was right now. My hands seemed to do as they pleased when my fingers started to gently massage her tits. Her hand came into view, a Band-Aid between her fingers.

For a time I simply couldn't decide which hand to move to grasp the Band-Aid. Suddenly her body started to shake, and yet another giggle carried to my ears, causing me to look up at her. She in turn winked before nodding down at my hand, or rather, her nipples.

"It's because it's cold in here, OK? Don't go reading anything else into it."

Now it was my turn to smile and fight back the "yes, dear" moment as I tried to put the Band-Aid over a very erect nipple. The devil in me made me use my thumb to push the Band-Aid onto her flesh. The fact that I pushed her hardened nipple back into her breast, causing Taylor to catch her breath, was of course pure coincidence.

Taylor was ready for me the second time.

"You know, you're enjoying this way too much."

With Band-Aid in hand my only comment was, "And you're not?"

It wasn't until I had finished placing the second one over her other nipple, and of course felt duty bound to pay attention and make sure that neither one would fall off, that she answered.

"There is no way in HELL, white boy, that you're going to be taking those off when I'm done with this marathon."

She was still smiling when she was putting her sports bra back on, so I think we both took it well. I then took a step towards my room before saying, "Are we done?"

It was then I stopped when she didn't answer. If the Band-Aid incident had made us both smile towards the end, the look on her face was one of doubt, and yet it seemed to be tinged with excitement. It was then I fully turned and stood back in the same spot I had only just vacated.

"OK. What am I missing here?"

Had I known I was going to be seeing so much of Taylor this morning I would have had second thoughts. It was only when she looked down at the coffee table beside us that I noticed the small jar next to the discarded covers of the Band-Aids which now adorned her tits. I could feel the heat rise once again in my cheeks, more so when she picked up the jar and looked closely at it, and then at me.

"Remember my conversation with the ladies' coach, Mitch? Well, she gave me that to give to you. It's to prevent chafing when I start to sweat."

Instinctively I took a step back as my mind finally processed my thoughts and came to the only real conclusion, which was that I had focused my research too tightly on training. Even though I thought I had addressed her health needs for the race, I had really thought only about her diet. Still intrigued at the jar and its contents, I think I should have been paying rather more attention when I asked the obvious question.

"OK. So where do I put the contents of this?"

She noticed my reaction, and came a step closer so the distance between us stayed the same. Her voice was a whisper, and I instinctively caught myself leaning forward to hear her say, "Panty line."

The words "you can do that on your own" died in my throat as I watched her reach out and place the jar in the palm of my hand. Her hands then went to the top of her boy shorts and lowered them to the floor. Once done, she again stood in front of me. I had only ever seen the look she gave me once before, when we sat at the conference table with the folks present.

Taylor Dennison knew what she was doing, and I had recognized the inner strength of this woman. She may as well have cut her own heart out and placed it in my hand right about now. I had a naked Taylor in front of me, and every defense she had ever built up around men was now discarded amongst the few clothes on the floor. I tried my best to keep eye contact with her, but her smirk was real though, as she knew it was only a matter of time before my eyes would go wandering.

But it was the fact that she was naked in front of me that was the point. She couldn't spell it out any clearer; we both understood that she could well have put the contents of the jar on herself, just as we both knew that, even with a couple of attempts, she could have put the Band-Aids on herself as well.

As my mind drifted back over the last few months, it became clear to this dumb shit that she had used the carrot and got bored with waiting for me to notice, or perhaps I was too much of a gentleman to notice. So, with race day in mind, it was time to use the big stick approach. Today I had given Taylor her heart back. She picked up on my smile and hers followed, with relief in close pursuit.

I opened the jar and said, "Wanted to save the best till last, huh?"

Her toned stomach simply acted like an arrow to her pussy. Mom may have raised a gentleman, but I was toast and this girl knew it. Taylor just stood and let me stare. My brain wouldn't let me do much else other than let my mouth hang open. Her pussy hair was still a full bush, but trimmed tight to her body. Her legs took a pace apart, exposing the top part of her treasure.

Taylor was far more comfortable with the situation than I was, her words simply confirming it. "Go on then, coach; do your thing."

My brain couldn't even remember the words to the 'Star-Spangled Banner.' Hell, I had trouble remembering my own name when I looked at the vision in front of me. Auto-pilot made me open the jar, my fingers coming out with a small amount of the contents, and Taylor rested a hand on my shoulder as I bent down and got a close up. My body told me I was as hard as I had ever been.

I prayed to the Gods that my thoughts remained on that runner and coach comment. My heart was beating so loud in my ears that I was certain Taylor could hear it. My cheeks gave up any pretence of equanimity, and I went beet red the second my fingers came away from the jar. For close to eight months Taylor Dennison had been simply my room-mate, the girl who kept me company at track meets, and eventually my friend. Now I was going to touch her, and in a place most men only got to dream about.

This felt like I was entering a defining moment with her. Taylor moved her legs apart once again and her pussy lips parted, her musk entering my nostrils and assaulting my brain. When my fingers touched her inner thigh she actually lifted her body off the floor by a good two inches before slowly coming back down.

"Holy shit! Perhaps we should have warmed the damned stuff up."

She moved again and placed her other hand on my other shoulder. I was staring directly at her crotch, and two fingers were but an inch away from spreading cream into her pussy lips. My mind screamed at me to be professional about this until I heard her moan and her pussy lips became engorged, the room becoming enveloped in her scent.

My mind screamed that I had to be professional. I had a naked Taylor in front of me, and was touching parts of her that I shouldn't be seeing until at least the fifth date. That thought alone made me stop what I was doing. Taylor placed her hand under my chin and I followed the pressure until our eyes met.

The softness of her voice carried the concern her question held within it. "Are you OK?"

I had thought my cheeks were warm: now they burned. "I'm the one who should be asking that question."

She smiled, her head tilted slightly to the left as though she was not only thinking about the question but formulating an answer. Her eyes sparkled and her smile warmed the room.

"I can think of six guys that would have already had me up against the drywall with their dicks buried in me by now. You're rubbing cream into parts of me that my own momma hasn't seen since I was a child, and NOW you're worried about how I'm feeling?"

Remember the guy with the high IQ thing? Well he just got to nod his head and give his vocal cords a rest. Intelligence took a back seat and figured it was time to let the man out. I looked up at her on a few occasions, and when I saw the smile on her face I thought that, just maybe, the situation wasn't beyond repair.

Of course Taylor already had a plan. "Please stand."

Tearing my eyes away from the treasure in front of me was hard enough. I was well on the way to standing straight when her arms went around my neck as I stood tall.

"Mitchell Cromwell, it's taken me a full summer talking to you on the phone, and nearly eight months of living here, to get you to this point. You're not getting away. Now finish what you started, only this time I want to watch your eyes."

If I had been any more confused my forehead would have looked like a Shar-Pei. Her lips touched the tip of my nose in a kiss, and then she once again came into focus. Her thighs came together, holding my hand tight to her, a wicked little grin spreading slowly across her face. The warmth between her legs grew and, as I tried to pull my hand away, her thighs tightened and her head shook.

I was frozen to the spot. Taylor noticed my hesitancy, and that damned smile just got bigger. Slowly her right hand left its position around my neck and went between us, her hand finally closing around my wrist.

"I have developed an itch. You need to scratch it for me, please."

The pause as I figured out what she meant was quickly ended by her hand tightening around my wrist, and her legs opening once again. My hand was both warm and wet as Taylor let out a slow sigh and rested her head on my shoulder. Two fingers cautiously entered her, and amongst the groans and muffled words whispered into my shoulder I distinctly heard "atta boy." A moment later her body lowered an inch, causing my fingers to sink into her.

Her hand came away from my wrist and held onto my shoulder, her head turning to whisper into my ear, "You've got the picture. Now scratch that itch while I hold on for the ride."

I fought the urge to laugh, and my other hand came around the small of her back and held her tight to me. In response, one of Taylor's legs left the floor and lifted to my hip. A fresh wetness soaked my hand as yet another finger entered her, followed by another soft moan from her lips. Again her hips moved, and Taylor shuddered as I found what my fingers were looking for: that small patch of skin that was wetter and slightly rougher then the rest.

When she caught her breath and held it I knew. Two of my fingers traveled slowly over her g-spot and from side to side. She was so close that I actually felt her stomach tense and her hips move. Her breathing stuttered for a moment before she suddenly gasped, her leg dropping and her thighs clamping my hand into place as her orgasm engulfed her.

I don't think she noticed I had stopped, her own body taking her away from me for some minutes. The weight on my arm made me realize her legs had given way on her about the same time her mouth bit down on my shoulder to suppress her scream. The urge to scream "Ouch!" was only held back by the erotic thoughts chasing through my mind as the hottest lady I knew had an orgasm while she was painted to my body.

As the grip of her mouth into my shoulder slackened, her thighs parted and the tingling in my fingers started. I never did get to say "Ouch," as her mouth moved straight from my shoulder and we kissed. If I hadn't already had the hard-on to end all hard-ons then, that kiss would have surely sealed the deal.

As our lips parted, and her forehead rested against mine, she murmured "Didn't want to slam me up against the drywall, huh?"

That certainly broke the tension, as we both giggled before I replied. "We're in the middle of the damn room, girl, and I'm not dragging your ass all that way." She chuckled and shook her head before gently resting her hand on my cheek. With a final kiss we slid apart, and I finally got Taylor greased up before she put her boy shorts back on and went into her room to get dressed.

It was the look on her face when she re-entered the room that worried me. She walked up and wrapped her towel around my neck before using it to pull me to her, and kissed me again before relaxing her hold.

"I don't regret anything, Mitch, but you also have to know I'm not going back to what we once were. I'm not missing the race, because I've worked so hard to get to this stage, but I'm putting you on notice. You have seen mine, and when we get back I want to see yours."

We left the apartment with my hand on the small of her back. She noticed but said nothing. I could tell by her manner and her facial expressions that it was the same as when I set her those home-grown mock exams. Her concentration right now was on the half-marathon.

*******

During the period between Taylor deciding she wanted to do the half-marathon and completing her training, I had found that I could get to see her progress at three different parts of the course on raceday. Her concentration was total all the way around the course, and she never once saw me take pictures of her and send them onto both our folks. The last text I sent was as I held her in my arms and told both folks her finishing time come the end of the race. Taylor's mom rang first, and I held my cell as Taylor panted into it screaming and laughing.

Marta joined us, but I lost them for a while when I went to get Taylor's sweats and towel. When I went looking, I found the girls were with their sorority sisters. It seemed I had gone up a notch or two in their expectations. The girls of course wanted to party, but Taylor told Marta they had already made other plans. The look between them both seemed to telegraph something, and Marta leaned in and whispered to Taylor before walking over and hugging me. I could still see Taylor over her shoulder.

"Hurt her, and I will break you into two pieces. That's just a threat to your dick; imagine what I will do to the rest of you."

Feeling even surer that Taylor had friends in high places, I kissed Marta on her cheek and smiled when we parted. Taylor joined us then so I didn't get to reply. Marta didn't even lean into Taylor: she wanted us both to hear what she said next.

"He wears a coat or he doesn't come in. Get me, girl?"

Taylor smiled and flushed a little as she grabbed my arm, her parting words to Marta being "yes, momma" as we walked towards our apartment. I still had Taylor slow run small circles around me on route to warm down and keep from cramping up. She bitched and moaned about it, but did it anyway.

I ran her a bath while she got out of her clothes and spoke again to her folks. Although I couldn't hear the words, and wasn't interested in eavesdropping on her conversation, it was the tone of her voice that I listened to and smiled at. When Taylor was happy her voice took on a sing-song lilt and was kinda cute.

I added bath salts with the words "Muscle relaxant" on the label, and called over my shoulder that she had three minutes. She touched my shoulder in two. A very naked Taylor stood less than three feet from me, and I was once again reduced to staring at her: all of her. She filled the void between us by once again placing her hands on her hips.

"You joining me?"

My mind did a re-boot and screamed at me that she was still Taylor; a very naked one, with an amazing body, but she was still Taylor and I should treat her as such.

"Not this time: you're on your own. You need to soak while I get some towels on my bed and grab massage oils. I need to sort out your muscles; we can't have you cramping up later this evening when your body finally settles down."

Her head lowered an inch or two, and an eyebrow twitched. She was so milking this.

"I'm gonna be naked and on your bed?"

Taylor was already standing in front of me in one hell of a great-looking birthday suit, and yet she was doing the drama thing about laying face down on my bed? How I kept a straight face I will never know.

"Well, there is always the floor over in the day room. You could watch TV while I give you a massage. Somehow I can't see the kitchen table being big enough, since it only sits four people."

The smile grew again, and she walked past me and stepped into the bath. I left her to it, hearing a contented sigh as she lowered herself into the tub as I exited the bathroom. The odd splash and an occasional humming of some tune could be heard as I got towels and oils out. I even sat them in a shallow bowl of warm water to warm them up. It had gone quiet in the bathroom by the time I had finished, so curiosity and just a hint of worry made me go and have a look to see if Taylor was OK.

When I stuck my head in the bathroom she was asleep. Her breasts did that floating thing that always made men watch and watch and ... sigh. She sure was a beautiful woman, even more so when you got past the bitchy façade and found that the inside sure matched the outside. It was obvious that Taylor carried a lot of baggage but, through the summer phone calls and sharing the apartment for the last eight months, I had come to see the real Taylor Dennison, and it did make me wonder just how many people got to see that special person.

Feeling that watching her any longer had creepy connotations, I sat on the edge of the bath and placed my hand on her shoulder. She jumped and opened her eyes quickly, doing that thing we all do when we wake in a strange place, and for a second I glimpsed fear. She recovered quickly, though, when her memories came back to her.

"Oh, if my momma could see us now."

My hand came away from her shoulder and rested on my thigh.

"I'd be more worried if you had said your father," I replied, as I got up and pulled a towel open, ready for her to stand.

"Not on our house, Mitch; it's my mom you gotta worry about. Dad would just bust you in half, but mom would laugh while she was doing it."