Resurrection of Crazy Jane Pt. 01

She had a 1,000-yard stare, off into the distance, enjoying the moment. Feeling everything.

Her voice raised a few octaves as she was moaning in high-pitched mews. She had yet to close her eyes or really return my gaze, looking back into me, which I thought was a good sign. She was focusing on her body. I knew it. Focusing on the pleasure.

At long last, I finally felt it. My balls tightening up. My cock hardened even more. This was it.

Without her roommate in the house, I moaned LOUD.

If I wasn't wearing a rubber, I would've blown a pint of cum into her, which I confirmed when I pulled out and saw a golf-ball sized reservoir of cum swelling the end of the condom.

"Oh my God," she finally said in a high-pitched voice, smiling and, for the first time, showing a look of actual lust in her eyes.

She enjoyed it!

We were both grinning like idiots and in a matter of minutes, we just fell asleep together on the couch, holding each other.

---

The next morning, Nikki came back to the apartment and told Beth that they needed to talk.

It was a bit of a bomb, but Nikki said that she had been secretly struggling with her finances for months. She was trying to not bother Beth with it, but she was at her breaking point. She couldn't make rent this month and she was moving back in with her parents.

Nikki would be gone within a week.

I offered immediately to move in with Beth. Yes, it was a big move, but I was ready to make it. We were a real deal. Sex the night before had confirmed it.

Yet, she was apprehensive.

"I ... I'm not ready for that," she told me without making eye contact with me. "I mean, we just started dating and it's just ..." She was kind of shaking while having this conversation. It was the exact opposite of the girl that all but seduced me the previous night. This was "scared Beth" again.

I think she knew what cohabitation implied, and she just wasn't ready.

I knew that. I understood. She didn't have to explain it to me. I smiled and kissed her and told her I'd be there to help her out financially if she couldn't find anybody, even if that meant I didn't live there. I was crashing on my friend's sleeper couch for $75 a month (even though I was mostly at Beth's), so I had cash to spare.

In the meantime, she began the search for a new roommate.

I helped her design a flyer and we figured she'd hang it up at school, maybe the library.

"I'll hang it up in the bookstore too when I go to work later," she announced.

I immediately froze and thought of Zoey, for the first time since I had met her. Why, idiot?! Why?!

My pulse quickened and my breath caught in my throat. Just from the simple mention of her name. I stifled a grin for Beth's benefit.

"Oh yeah, I forgot you worked tonight," I told her with an unsure tone.

"Yes, and I'll miss you too, you big dork," she told me before grabbing my hand. She looked into my eyes for a moment then said dreamily, "I love the way you look at me. It makes me feel... special."

I gave her a noncommittal smile, because this "look" I was giving her was because I was far away, thinking about Zoey, and that Beth would be working with her that night. I guess a daydream look amounted up a look of love. Apparently.

Jesus, get your act together, man!

I let my mind wander Beth and Zoey. Were they friends? Would Zoey tell Beth? Does Zoey even know who I am? And besides, that was quite forward of Zoey to blatantly flirt with me like that. She must flirt with guys all the time. I'm not such a prize catch that my dumb ass made her lose her mind like that.

Right?

"Um, why are you, you know?" Beth asked, pulling me out of me reverie. She angled her eyes down at my crotch, and I had gotten hard as a rock suddenly. She looked unsure and scared, and I just beamed and shrugged.

"I'm a growing boy, Beth. You rev my motor," I flirted with her, trying to cover up the source of my excitement - my daydream. She didn't take it as a flirtation at all though.

"I can't handle this right now," Beth exclaimed suddenly, standing up and walking around in a panic, flailing her arms in exasperation. "I can't do this. I'm not your, your ..."

I stood up and went to hug her. Seeing your girlfriend having a mental fit has a way of neutering your libido, so I was fully in control when I tried to embrace her.

"Beth, sweetie, I'm sorry ... it's okay," I told her as I wrapped my arms around her. As soon as I made contact with her, she shuddered and pulled away. Her face scrunched up.

"I ... I ... need to get ready. Get dressed." She skulked off and went into her bedroom and closed the door.

I sat down on the couch and clenched my hands together, just staring. I'd be lying if this was the first time I saw Beth act strangely like this. The sex from the previous night was a long memory at that point.

When she was out of sorts, I learned to just wait it out and then she'd get back to normal. Give her space. That's the biggest thing.

I picked up a book of poetry from the bookcase to occupy myself until she hopefully came back out. It was a book of poems by William Butler Yeats. I thumbed through and began to read, settling on "Crazy Jane and Jack the Journeyman."

I know, although when looks meet

I tremble to the bone,

The more I leave the door unlatched

The sooner love is gone,

For love is but a skein unwound

Between the dark and dawn.

As I sat ruminating on Yeats' first lines, she came out of the room, dressed in her uniform, grinning. She smiled widely at me and bent down to kiss me on the forehead.

"Could you walk me out to my car?" she requested, grabbing me by my hand like she didn't have a care in the world. Somewhat stunned, I walked down from her apartment to the parking lot. She squeezed me with her hand as we walked, looking at me happily yet silently, almost in adoration. Once we got to her car, she got up on her tiptoes to kiss me.

"Would you meet me during my lunch break? Say, 6 p.m.? If you're not, you know, busy."

I stared, nodding. "Sure, Bethy," I said as I apprehensively brought her into a hug. She looked at me silently, still not finding the nerve to say the l-word - neither of us had even said it to each other yet to be honest.

With a quiet look, she got in her car and took off.

It wasn't until Beth drove off that it occurred to me what I agreed to.

Zoey would be at the bookstore. Or, at the very least, she might. Then I kept reflecting ... Sure, that kind of thing doesn't happen often - or ever - to me. But she probably acts that way all the time. She probably doesn't even remember me.

And so what if she does? It's not like I did anything wrong. I didn't flirt with her. If anything, she came on to ME! And the book I was looking at was innocent ... ish. Beth might freak out. She would think I was gross. But what's one more thing? I already pretend that I don't have thousands of dirty pictures saved on my computer. I'm fine. We're fine. There's nothing to worry about with Zoey. Nothing.

Yeah, right.

If Beth found out I was browsing through the sex section, she would freak the fuck out. Completely!

I exhaled, drove back to my place, and got out my books to study for my literary criticism quiz next week.

Unfortunately, it took me 15 minutes to write a measly two paragraphs about Jacques Derrida and deconstruction. My mind just kept thinking about that book, which made me think of sex with Beth. Which made me think of Zoey and how forward she was. And that look she gave me that made my spine quiver. That magnificent body I had yet to really get a solid look at.

Those eyes.

I shouldn't have been surprised to notice that I unconsciously fished my cock out of my pants, thinking about Zoey.

Why fight it? FUCK!

--

Before I knew it, it was close to 5 p.m.

In my postorgasmic bliss, I finally managed to write a response to Derrida and do away with my studies for a day. I decided to surmise that Derrida was just an asshole, in so many words, and that the umbrella of "deconstruction" merely provided him the vehicle to be an asshole in academic affairs. Yes, it was a bullshit paper, but it was only worth 20 points toward my final grade. So fuck it.

Regardless, no more homework meant my mind was left to think about my girls. Namely, that my girlfriend is... interesting ... and that there was a chance I would see Zoey again when I met Beth for her lunch break. Both topics bounced around in my head.

I couldn't figure out Beth's emotions for the life of me. She seemed fine, until sex entered the equation. Since, she's been all kinds of nutty. I try to be sensitive. But I just can't keep up with her.

Zoey, well, was just tits and ass. That's all I could let myself think at this point. It's not like I could rationally think about anything else. I didn't even know her. It would have been all speculation. No use getting hung up on speculative matters. I just couldn't get over the fact that I had never been hit on like that in my life. And I was hit on. Whether I actually was or not, I was hit on. That's what my brain chose to believe.

I kept obsessing about both, so I figured I'd just get there early and sit in the cafe at the bookstore and wait for Beth to clock out for her lunch break. And I hoped and/or dreaded seeing Zoey. Let's just say, from a purely sporting angle, I was eager to see her again. No matter what, she was exciting.

I entered the bookstore and looked around for Zoey. And Beth. I tried to not be too excited to find either one of them. But I still moved my head back and forth peeking around all the shelves to see if I could spot one of them.

Nothing.

And maybe Zoey wasn't even working tonight.

A little relaxed, I took a seat and sipped on a coffee, getting out my notebook to fiddle around and write some poetry.

I liked to free-write, just getting out words, images or sounds that were trapped in my mind. And maybe spin a poem out of them. I didn't particularly like poetry, but I won undergrad writing awards at my University, so I think I was obligated to continue to write some.

I started to get some words on the page as they came to me.

Masochistic passion engulfs me

like using a machete to trim fingernails

Devil eyes of an angel

A periscope into my soul

Popping and mashing

into a paste of goodbyes

It wasn't great. Or even good, but it was a start. This is my process - write without much thought, then edit and find the meaning in rewrites. "Mash" sounds? Paste? I think I was hungry.

"Is that my sensuous man?"

I froze. I knew that voice.

Then I felt a hand on my shoulder, moving lightly down my upper arm as she swept into view.

Zoey.

Without being invited, she sat across from me like she was my best friend. I tensed my posture and closed my notebook. I don't know if I turned white, but whatever this feeling was, it was now known in my personal vernacular as the "turning white feeling." Or whatever. I was a freewriter. I'd edit it later.

"So, decided to not buy the book, huh? Chose to gather experience instead?"

This damn girl was the most expressive person I've ever met. She showed happiness, fun, and sex all over her face. She just oozed whatever emotion she was trying to convey with that precious mouth and her pink, shiny lips.

It was fucking intoxicating.

"Hi ... uh, Zoey," I finally managed to eek out, trying not to make eye contact. When I looked up, she was playfully scrunching up her face to me.

"Good," she said. "You were looking near my name tag the other day, but I didn't know if you ever actually looked at it." And on cue, she pushed her heavy chest up and out at me. Jesus, this girl could flirt!

I was so riddled with nerves, all I could think to do was run. I was squirming in my seat. I just wanted to run away from her. She scared me.

"I, uh, remember things," I said, my eyes shifty and unable to focus on her eyes. "I'd, uh, like to think of myself as observant." I sat back straight and picked my notebook up, clutching it in my hand, looking for a getaway. I kept yo-yoing between her eyes, hidden behind her sexy glasses, and her chest. Again.

Meanwhile, she was just looking straight at me. Unwavering. Dammit!

Sensory overload! Sensory overload!

"Whatcha got there?" she asked. I was confused. Then I realized where she was looking.

My notebook.

"Uh, it's, uh, just my poetry and stuff," I stammered out. Before I could even hatch a plan for this upcoming conversation about my writing we were obviously going to have, she reached over and snatched the notebook out of my hand. I instinctively tried to grab it back but it was outside of my reach. She flashed me a cocky smirk.

She looked at the cover, which was my best attempt at calligraphy, writing the words "Poetry, Etc." with doodles all over it. I liked drawing cartoon characters, so one was of Homer Simpson dressed like a Shakespearean leading man, in knickerbockers and a beret, but burping.

"Cute," she said, pointing to Homer. "You drew this?"

I nodded meekly, probably blushing.

"Cute and talented. And I haven't even looked inside yet," she teased. Her proclamation that I was "cute" still made me uncomfortable. But it made me beam, too. "So I assume the et cetera is drawings?" she asked. I just continued to blush and tried to reach across the table to get my book back. She just swatted at my hand and glared at me like a disappointed mother. "May I?" she asked, beginning to open it up.

Like I had a choice.

Every bit of writing inside was dated at the top. They were marked up all to hell, scratched out and erased. She just kept thumbing through, almost disinterested.

Then her face erupted into a huge smile.

"This one has today's date on it," she said, her face glowing like she just discovered gold. "Was this what you were just writing?"

I lunged at her to get it back, but sensing I might strike, she pulled it away from me. She began reading aloud.

"Masochistic passion engulfs me," she said in an almost mocking, monotonous poetry reading-style voice. "Damn, you are a sensuous man. And kinky."

"... like using a machete to trim fingernails. Hmm." She looked inward for a moment, obviously thinking about it.

"It's not done yet. I haven't even done a rewrite."

She continued, "Devil eyes of an angel. A periscope into my ..."

"I hate that word," I interrupted her. "That word, soul, is so cliche but I couldn't ..."

"Popping and mashing," she interrupted back, "into a paste of goodbyes." She began to put it down, looking past me, her flirtatious look finally gone. "Dang. The sensuous man is a poet."

She grinned at me again and placed the book on the table. Slowly, she moved her hand toward mine and began to rub a finger on my right hand. She looked up at me, a bit more serious this time, and lightly bit her lip.

Gah, her lip!

"You're here!" I heard from a distance. It was Beth. I was shaken back into the real world at the sound of her voice as Zoey jerked her hand away from mine. Beth hugged me from behind and placed a kiss on the side of my cheek. She was feeling good, from the sound of it.

Beth then looked up and saw Zoey, sitting across from me, my notebook still in front of her. "You guys know each other?" Beth asked.

"I-uh, she ..." I began to answer, but Zoey interrupted.

"He was in here the other day and I met him when was buying the 'Complete Works of Shakespeare,'" she said, cool as a cucumber. "I saw him writing so he was letting me read a bit. You know, killing time until my shift starts," she smiled.

I lifted my arms to cover Beth's at that moment, just to let her know I cared about her. And not Zoey. Not Zoey.

"You know me, Beth," I chuckled. "I'm a whore for letting people read my stuff."

Beth audibly grunted. "Gah, you know I hate that word." I think I even felt her shudder, but that didn't keep me from rolling my eyes. Zoey looked at me and flashed a little smirk.

Zoey broke up the awkwardness. "So, you two are ..."

"Yep!" Beth proudly announced and kissed me on the cheek. "Three months now, huh?" she asked me. "I forgot you're new. You weren't here yet when we started going out. Everybody here lost their minds when we starting going out. It was so annoying."

All I pulled out of that was that Zoey was new. That's why I'd never seen her before.

Zoey gave an odd look to Beth. "Girl, good job reeling in this one," Zoey said to Beth. "Probably had to poach him from somebody else, huh?"

"What do you mean?" Beth asked innocently.

"I mean, he's smart," Zoey said, picking up my notebook. "And super cute. I assume he was taken." Then, she smirked flirtatiously. "Either that, or you're just dynamite in the sack. And have devil eyes of an angel, hmm?" She looked at Beth and me with a proud smile on her face, quoting my own poetry.

I felt Beth tense up at the sexual comment. "Uhhh, no," Beth said, almost sounding grossed out but laughing awkwardly because she knew that socially, she had to. "We, uh, met in a writing class," she continued. "Wrote a story together and just, he asked me out."

I looked at Zoey nervously. She could obviously tell she hit a sour chord with Beth. Her face looked crestfallen. "That's cute," Zoey said. "You got a good one. As did you, sir. Beth is probably the sweetest girl here." Zoey stood up and gave Beth a big hug. "Well, time to clock in," she announced. "Have a good lunch, Beth. Bye, Shakespeare."

And almost as suddenly as she appeared, Zoey disappeared behind the book stacks, leaving us alone.

Beth let go of me and bounded into the chair across from me. She seemed, I don't know, bubbly.

"She's sweet," Beth told me. "Weird she was sitting here with you. I didn't know you guys knew each other."

For some reason, I was calm. I was able to come up with a deflecting comment. "Yeah, she just, sat down and talked to me. It was weird. I don't even know her." That's right. Throw her off the scent. Don't know what scent there is, but if there was one, it smelled like strawberry shampoo and perfume.

Ugh, focus, man!

"Yeah, she comes on strong," Beth said. "And she gets, you know, inappropriate," Beth guffawed. Yes, Beth. I NOTICED.

Beth and I had a nice lunch break together. I got a pastry and we hung out. The awkwardness from earlier in the day was gone. We talked about school and what movie we might want to see on our next date. She was normal.

We only had 30 minutes for her break, but 20 minutes into it, up walks Zoey, bouncing with a Cheshire grin on her face. All of her was, well, bouncing.

"Hey Shakespeare, found a couple books you might get use out of," Zoey said. "And Beth," she told her, "When you get off break, find me. I wanted to ask you something."

She dropped off a stack of books, all about Shakespeare.

The one on top: "A Glossary of Shakespeare's Sexual Language." I immediately shuffled that one to the bottom before Beth could see. But, that only revealed "A Dictionary of Shakespeare's Sexual Puns and their Significance." And I turned that fucker over. I smiled at Beth awkwardly.