In a Room Full of People

*******

The reality of the next day came in the guise of Taylor walking into my room with two cups in her hands, and using her heel to kick the door shut. All I could do was stare in amazement. My dressing gown never looked like that on me when I wore it.

"Aw, shucks! And I was so looking forward to blowing you awake!"

She laughed when she saw my cheeks warm up. Taylor placed the cups on the cabinet by the bed, dropped the dressing gown, and climbed over me to get to her side of the bed. Even I knew there was no point in telling her that she could have easily have walked around the bed to her side. I enjoyed it, and the feeling of her dragging her pussy across my stomach sure had its intended results.

Taylor sat cross-legged, and something within me made me sit up and match her so that we were facing each other. Our knees touched, and when she noticed my erection start to leave me, her hand wrapped itself around my cock and slowly moved up and down. Her intention was to keep me erect, not to get me to completion. It also underpinned my first thought that, sitting as we were, she needed to talk. The fact we were both naked was just coincidence.

"I've given a lot of thought to our conversation yesterday evening."

Her eyes came up from my erection and she smiled before saying, "Oh, and you snore when you're on your back, so I'm going to be turning you around when you wake me from now on."

Other than nod my head I couldn't even think of what to say, but I really didn't need to. Taylor had rehearsed her speech; it was just her way of getting to it.

"As you're aware, I wasn't a virgin when I came to your bed but, in fairness, you weren't either. That being said, I know all three women you have dated at college, and they all speak highly of you. All three would marry you in a heartbeat once they had finished playing the field and wanted to settle down."

She looked at me for any form of reaction, but I didn't have any. The three women Taylor was referring to were still friends of mine, even when the 'hands off' status came into effect. She paused for a moment before sucking air into her lungs so that she could continue. Taylor was brutally blunt; not with me, but about herself. She admitted to the amount of males she had been intimate with, and even one female. That tidbit made me raise an eyebrow.

When she noticed, her eyes went to watch her hand still going up and down on my dick. She quickly went on to admit that, once the deed was done, she all but tossed them out of her bed. This time her eyes came to mine and refused to move, the tears close to bursting forth.

"I couldn't form a personal attachment to anyone, Mitch, male or female. Sex was a need that meant I needed them, but other than that I was happy being me. Then you came into my life and I took a step back; even more so when I looked into your background."

Something seemed to have occurred to her then, and she stopped moving her hand.

"I know I'm sounding like a stalker, Mitch, but far from it. If I was going to show you me, I needed to know if you could handle it: all of it. That's what I think our folks are doing as well."

I could see her reasoning just as I could see mom doing something like that. Taylor's parents would have told mom about their daughter; the growing friendship between us on the daily phone calls over last summer would have prepared both of them. My belief was that the last eight months of us living together was just as carefully considered.

"I have depression, Mitch. Seeing my therapist has helped me a great deal, but let's be honest here - it ain't going to go away. It will sit in the back of my head no matter how happy you make me, and something insignificant to both of us will kick it off again."

Her hand stopped when I held onto hers. Tilting my head to the bed caught her attention and we lay down. She spooned back into me and pulled my arm around her, letting go when I got the idea and held onto one breast with my arm resting against the other. I was sure the coffee was cold now so I gave it little notice, my thoughts only on the woman in my arms. Taylor never moved from her position, each of us lost in our own thoughts.

It seems the question, "In a room full of people, why do I feel so alone?" had far bigger repercussions that evening than both of us ever thought possible.

*******

Mom knocked and told us to get our asses out of bed. Yes, there is nothing better at bringing you back to reality than your folks reminding you that a new day has started. Taylor went shopping with mom, while I used the time available to do some research for my course work. The first words out of mom's mouth were that she was hoping I was researching for Taylor's full marathon next year.

A quick look at Taylor and the smile meant that she was treating my mom just as she did hers. Invariably Taylor would hand over the phone to mom when she had finished her own conversations with her folks. She said it meant they didn't have to sneak around so much.

The back half of summer break was me visiting her folks. We had been there a week before someone thought it a great idea to have a family barbecue. It was still baby steps in our relationship, so the list of invitees was restricted to very close family. About an hour into the party the room went very quiet when one of Taylor's cousins yelled from his side of the room.

"Hey, white boy! How about you fetch us a drink for a change?"

I'm told that Superman can leap tall buildings in a single bound. Taylor made it from the kitchen to being in her cousin's face within the blink of an eye. The only sound she made to get there was the parting of space as her form shortened the distance between the kitchen door and him at the speed of sound. Before he had opened his mouth he really did look like he could fold Taylor in half and not break into a sweat.

Taylor hadn't even gotten into her stride as she bitched and cussed him up and down while he was backing towards the front door. The slam as it separated him from us should have given finality to the whole event. Well, it would have done, if not for Taylor. She turned and glared at every man, woman and child standing in that room; some squirmed, but others puffed their own chests out in pride.

I watched her hands, tightly clenched to her sides. When I went to move, her mother quickly shook her head at me, so I stopped.

Her voice, although quiet for her, carried through the whole room. "For half of this summer I have lived with Mitch's family, and not once has the color of my skin been an issue with any of them. My family has embarrassed me in front of this man. I can't cut Jordan out of my family for what he's just done, but I can cut him out of my heart."

She took a step back, and her hand grasped the door and opened it. Jordan had gone, but Taylor wasn't looking out the door when she continued to speak, her eyes still scanning everyone there.

"In case you're all wondering: yes, I'm sleeping with Mitch. I'm not talking the L word to anyone but Mitch at the moment, but I'm not having my own family dictate who I can see and what color skin they have to be wrapped in."

By now Taylor's mom and dad had joined her at the door.

"I don't tell you how to live YOUR lives, so where do you get off telling me how to live mine?"

Her granddad stood up from the couch and walked over to his granddaughter before giving her a hug and returning to the couch. Everyone else in the room followed suit. I figured I may as well stand in line to get a hug too, although I did get a kiss as a bonus. Yes, I was proud of Taylor that evening but, even with Jordan's exclusion from the party, it felt like the damage had already been done.

My presence truly was the elephant in the room and, by the time we had finished the cleanup, Taylor had packed and we left. I'm sure glad dad owned the college apartment, because we were back there three weeks before anyone else that year.

In keeping with her wishes I got the push-bike out, and we started Taylor's new exercise regime and the build up to the end of year marathon. Both moms came up for a long weekend, and I would make myself busy for a few hours while all three did retail therapy.

*******

As the students started to return, the rumor mill worked itself into a frenzy. It was unheard of for students to be back from summer holidays three weeks before start of class, and so once again we made it to the top of the gossip roster.

Once I had got used to Taylor's schedule I regimented her time. She knew why, because I sat her down the day before start of class and explained it to her. If she sat and brooded then she would start to feel sorry for herself, and depression wouldn't have been more than half a step away. The only other change was the sleeping arrangements. Her room was only somewhere she hung her clothes now, but even that didn't stop her from poaching one of the drawers in my room for her underwear.

Marta came by, and Taylor filled her in on the summer break. The look I got from her was one of sadness. Marta and I had long ago talked on the subject and she said she was born in this country so that made her an American. Even as a child she had never warmed to the term African-American. Her way of expressing herself was always colorful but, as Taylor got to the confrontation between her and Jordan, her smile came back with a vengeance.

"Letting your woman do all the fighting for you, huh?"

For just a second I forgot who was talking to me and heat burned my cheeks. Marta smiled, and the warmth receded once again.

"Judging by the way the rest of the folks in that room watched everything going on, I felt like a bystander. Hell, if I wanted to get involved I would have had to have joined the queue."

Both girls laughed, and I was once again ignored as they talked about classes and the sorority.

*******

We made it to the top of the gossip roster twice more over the course of the next year. Mine was minor compared to Taylor's. I was knocked off my push-bike; Taylor called me a dumb-ass for not looking where I was going. In my defense (well, what little I could muster anyway), I was in the process of telling Taylor her times over distance and advice on her running pattern when I rode into the back of one of the campus police cars.

I totaled the bike, and got a good chunk of road rash over my hands and along my arms, and one damn woman who couldn't stop laughing even when they put me into the ambulance. My darling even waited until she got me back to the apartment before she phoned both sets of folks and described in excruciating detail how it all happened ...twice.

It was the Dean who got involved with the other occasion. Taylor's marks started to cause a few of the professors' heads to turn and look real hard at her work. No-one came right out and said it in the beginning, but eventually some dusty old professor who felt safe in his tenure accused Taylor of cheating. We tried to keep it from the folks, but somehow they found out. Her sorority got involved and challenged the professor to put up or shut up.

A war of words followed that rapidly disintegrated into a battle of 'he said, she said,' and fractured college opinion. To stop the whole thing turning into a soap opera the Dean got two of Taylor's class teachers together and ordered them the set her an impromptu exam. Her sorority urged Taylor not to sit it; she had the moral high ground, and they all knew she had earned her marks with sheer hard work and had no need to justify herself.

Taylor agreed to sit the exam on condition that she reside with the Dean's family overnight and sat the exam first thing in the morning, thus leaving everyone in no doubt that she was supervised the entire time. I agreed with her sorority and told her so, but it was her decision to make.

Out of twenty-seven questions and a two-page essay, Taylor got two questions wrong and an A for the essay. The sharks went after the professor, forcing him to publicly apologize to Taylor for the accusation. Later that evening she wrote a big 'thank you' on her social media page to everyone who supported her, as well as a plea to everyone to put it all to rest. The Dean added to her post with an invite to dinner the very next evening.

All Taylor wrote back was, 'not without my boyfriend.'

While the rest of the conversation on the general media page slipped into gentle ribbing, the Dean phoned Taylor personally and agreed to Taylor plus one. I watched her throughout the confrontation and stood proudly by her side. Little did either of us realize that one event would have a dramatic effect on the job she most wanted. She had exonerated herself, and the accusations of a bitter professor were proved to be unfounded, and we were both young enough and naïve enough to believe that she had nothing left to prove.

The sad thing is that sometimes, for whatever reason, you can't unstick mud.

*******

With the trials and tribulations cleared of that year cleared from her mind, Taylor finished her degree as a straight A student. She also finished her first full marathon in a very respectable time. The angst simmering beneath the surface returned, however, when she spoke to the company that had verbally guaranteed her a job before she started college. When she did get someone on the phone they shunted her from one department to another, each going very quiet when she asked about sending them proof of her qualifications. Wondering what was going on, and what she had done to deserve this reaction, she turned up at head office with a folder under her arm, only to be left sitting outside HR all day.

After so many hours sitting watching paint do a very good impression of drying, she stood and walked out of the building with her head held high, but inside she was screaming at the world. I watched her walk down the steps of the office building, her sunglasses doing little to hide the tears.

When she sat in the passenger seat I drove the three hours back to my folks' place. Mom took one look at Taylor and wrapped her in a hug as her defenses crumbled while the pain and humiliation of that day fed on her vulnerability.

By the time her folks got to our place we had managed to get Taylor to bed. The poor girl was both physically and emotionally exhausted, so it was left to us to put together the pieces of a puzzle that was none of our making. My folks offered, and thankfully the Dennisons accepted and stayed for the weekend. The Dean offered to talk to the company, but Taylor refused his help. In her eyes the company she had spent four years at college for, only for that same company to withdraw the offer of a job, was now in the past.

I held her hand as we sat on the back porch, my leg allowing the rocker a gentle swinging motion. As tempting as it was to speak and offer advice, I truly hoped I was following my dad's lead in situations like these by shutting the fuck up and waiting. Her grasp stayed constant; for how long I wasn't sure, but my watch was attached to that arm and the thought of moving so I could find out was going to be a real bad idea.

Many times it looked like she wanted to talk; a few times she even looked at me and opened her mouth, but then she would mist up and the moment for her was gone, at least for now.

"I never meant to hurt you when I made you persona non grata amongst the girls. If nothing else, you have to believe that."

Taylor was talking about something that, to me, was so long ago, and didn't really affect me as much as I suspected it was supposed to, that I genuinely struggled to find an answer for her.

"That was a long time ago, honey."

"I know, but it made me look like I was manipulating you. Even Marta told me I was playing a dangerous game with you if I enforced it."

Shrugging my shoulder, I simply replied, "You had your reasons."

Taylor watched as two birds flew across the lawn and up into the tree at the end of the garden.

"Fear was one of them."

Again I looked closely at the woman holding my hand. A small smile came to her lips as if she had finally admitted something to herself and, in doing so, had gained some freedom from the fact.

"I was so used to guys asking me out that I never developed the ability of asking guys out myself."

"Any regrets?"

Her hand squeezed mine a little, and her smile was as warm as I had ever seen it.

"Two, perhaps. The first being that I never met you the first day I came to college, and the second was slapping you."

For a second she looked down at my lap and then drew in a big breath. Her eyes inched their way up past my chest and eventually met mine.

"I love you, you know. I handled that love badly in the beginning, but I hope you've seen how hard I've tried to make up for it."

The lump in my throat wouldn't go away. Taylor continued to talk, and all I did was sit and listen to my heart beat against my chest.

"When I looked back on those times, I knew that if I was in your shoes I would have handled it all differently, and that's what also makes me love you all the more. I'm with you because you saw past the bitch, and you let me be me. Every day I'm going to look you in the eyes and tell you I love you, because when you look right on back you will know I mean it."

I resumed my slow rocking of the porch seat. In the time we had lived together we had grown to understand each other, and love was used not only as a term of endearment but a way we had come to live our lives by.

"I want to hurt them as badly as they have hurt me."

She was still looking out across the lawn as she spoke, but this time I was on firmer ground.

"Want me to help?"

Her grip on my hand became tighter, her head turned, and she looked at me with an intensity I had only seen a few times with her.

Taylor's head nodded first before she put it into words. "Yes, please. I would like that very much."

We sat both sets of folks down and told them what we planned to do. Both pulled out checkbooks and signed over twenty thousand dollars each. I held it together right up until Taylor started to cry, then I joined her. The next day we cleaned out the basement, and also went to see a lawyer to form a limited company, then we went back and moved everything from the college apartment back home.

Once we got everything we needed I placed a picture on the wall directly across from the desk Taylor was using. It was a picture of the tortoise and the hare. She smiled when I first put it up, and for the next three years we lived by it. We cast the net wide, and Taylor even got the girls from her sorority involved as her eyes and ears. By the end of our third year in business we had paid back our folks, plus interest, and had moved out of the basement into an office in a real office block.

We called ourselves consultants. It was a title people understood better than what we really did. We found up and coming inventors and designers and placed them with companies that required that particular skill. On some occasions we even funded the research ourselves, taking a percentage of the patent in return for the investment. Taylor's management skills just got sharper over time, and she sorted out the deals between inventor and company.

Between my computer skills and the ladies from the sorority that were all across the country, we kept coming up with people with great ideas.

*******

We had now reached our fourth year in business and Taylor was on her fifth marathon. I still kept her company via my bicycle and watched her times. She found it a great pressure release, and frankly I agreed with her. Once a year we paid for both sets of folks to go on a cruise together as a thank you for their continued support, even though they made us endure the endless holiday snaps they brought back.

Both of us had even thought about getting our own place. Well, we did think about it - honest! The thing was that we liked our living arrangements, and thankfully my folks did as well.