Sex Club for Nerds and Geeks Ch. 13

I slid a finger into her pussy and worked it slowly as I continued on her clit, sucking and rimming the nub. She rolled her hips slowly and I stole a quick glance: she had a hand under her shirt and her eyes were closed.

"Now, oh god now, oh goddddd, yes, yesssss," she moaned as I tongued ravenously at her clit. I was beginning to tire, so I pulled off her clit and began stroking it with my finger. As I drove a second finger deep into her pussy and fluttered, she erupted.

"OH FUUUUUCK!" she bellowed as she levitated off the bed. The bun gave way again and her hair again flew all over as she thrashed around, glorying in her climax.

As she recovered, I stripped off my clothes and rolled her t-shirt up, fumbling behind her for the bra clasp. I knew she was back on earth when she sat up and gave me space to complete undressing her.

"Did I make a lot of noise?"

"I doubt if too many people are asleep right now."

She blushed. "I'm always lecturing about keeping it down, and now I go and break my own rule."

"I didn't know. I'm sorry."

"Don't be. That was the best I've had in a long time. Now," she said, "we are going to fuck and you will break the rule." She shifted and rolled on top of me.

"Wait, condom."

"I don't have any. You?"

"Wallet." I looked frantically for my shorts. She spotted them first, grabbed them, and fished out my wallet. I ripped the foil and slammed it on.

"In a hurry?" she perked.

" 'In' is the right word. Yes, god, I want to be in you so much," and I rolled on top of her as she obligingly spread her legs.

She guided me in and we began. I tried to stroke slowly, but lust took over and I was soon pistoning her. She hooked her heels around my ass and pulled me hard against her.

"Oh god Janice, I'm cumming, here I cum, oh-fuck oh-fuck oh-fuck ohhhhh fuuuuuck!" I whispered fervently, tight against her ear as I blasted everything I had into her.

I rolled us to the side and it was her turn to wipe the sweat away.

It was after eleven when I woke. My cock was soft and condom-less, dry and pink. Janice, dressed in jeans and a denim shirt, was sitting in her chair. smiling.

"You showed a lot of self-control," she said.

"How? I don't remember trying."

"When you came, I expected you'd rattle the rafters, but you whispered. I mean, you were so quiet I'll bet half the girls think I'm all alone and yelled as I was pleasuring myself."

She lay next to me and drifted her finger through my chest hairs and around a nipple.

"We've got a meeting at one, to decide the program for the show, so you've got to get a move on," she said.

I tried to pull her on top of me, but she resisted. "This has been wonderful, but duty calls. C'mon sailor, pull up your pants."

By the time we got to the front door and went our separate ways with mutual butt-pats, half-a-dozen girls had smiled in greeting. Two of them had smirked.

*

The long walk home allowed me time to clear my head.

Well, that was fun. Who knew?

Margery got laid, by someone other than me or George. That's a plus, both for her and Tom. Hope they like each other enough to keep it up.

And Martha's on her way. Wonder if she'll nail Francis by show time?

Should we invite Tom to join the club? As what, a summertime-only member? Lisa and Carrie would benefit, and you could get rid of whatever guilt you have about not paying enough attention to them.

Lisa! God, when was the last time you talked to Lisa? It hasn't been since the interviews started. Wonder if she'll take the call?

*

"Carl! You have GOT to be psychic! I've been dying to tell someone! You're the first to know!"

It was after two. I'd showered, changed the sheets, and had finished sending the reminders out when I decided to take my chances and call Lisa.

"You won the Nobel Prize for Literature, like Obama won the Peace Prize, for your obvious possibilities?"

"Better! The New Yorker bought my story!"

Even I knew that The New Yorker was one very serious place to get published.

"It'll be published in their issue on new writers, in the winter! Oh Carl, I am so excited! This will lead to so many things! I am on my way!"

Her excitement drew me in. I wanted to reach through the phone and hug her.

"I'll bring champagne. See you in twenty minutes."

"Wonderful. But I can't get drunk. Gotta go to work in a couple hours."

*

The liquor store also sold ceremonial flutes, so we toasted in style.

Clink! "To success!" Clink!

"You know, I've never read one of your stories. Will you let me see this one? I mean, now that it's finished."

"Uh, sure, but, well, uh, there's an issue."

I waited.

"I, uh, based it on, uh, well, on, sorta, I mean — oh fuck, you'll see something of yourself in it, only heavily disguised."

"Wow. How? I don't see how."

"The photos you took last winter, outside Lit? The drunken students?"

"Sure. They were photos, though."

"And the captions I wrote?"

"Yeah?" I wasn't getting it.

"Well, as I was working on the captions, my mind went toward why you were there, what you were feeling, why you took them, how cold you must have been in the snow, all that stuff. Remember?"

"Yeah."

"So I just ran with it. The captions were from an early version of the story.

"It's about a lonely guy who's obsessed with this waitress in a bar but is too shy to talk to her. Instead he lurks outside, in the falling snow and the dark and the bitter cold, taking pictures of patrons as they leave, hoping somehow this will move her to notice him.

"They find him the next morning, frozen stiff, in a snow bank."

"Is that what you think of me?" It didn't come out the way I meant it.

"No. Damn! I should have known this would happen. Damn fucking damn! Look, Carl, I didn't write about you, I mean, I wrote about the thoughts that your story tripped off in my mind."

"Let me see it," I said, coldly.

She printed out 14 double-spaced pages and handed them to me.

"Can I keep this?"

"No."

Sitting on the edge of her bed, I read in a daze. As she had outlined, the photographer was afraid of rejection, yearning for something he was certain he could never get. The camera was his defense, to avoid taking a chance. He died because he couldn't move beyond the obsession.

I dropped the pages into my lap, and Lisa's face came into focus. She was sitting upright in her chair, chewing her lower lip, waiting.

"Is this what you think of me?" I repeated.

"It's not about you, it's about what you invoked in my imagination."

"But I started it, telling you about that time."

"You're not the only person who's been in this position. Ask around the club, you'll hear stories. Ruth's got tons of them."

"Then why my story?"

"Ruth's are her stories, your story is mine. She and I have talked about anxiety, fear of getting close, rejection, loneliness, all that stuff. Your story gave me something to write about."

"Was I that bad?"

She joined me on the bed.

"I don't know, I wasn't there," she soothed, leaning into me. "The you I know asked me out and got me to go to bed with him."

She gently lowered me onto my back, lay down beside me, and moved her face close to mine.

"Don't hate me, please. It's what we writers do. I spin from what I know, or hear about, or read about. You are the only person in the world who knows even the tiniest bit about how this story came into my head." She put her lips on mine, hopeful of a response.

Instead, I pushed her away and walked out.

She used you! She doesn't care about you! You're just a fuck, a diversion from her obsession with writing. Probably half the club has been grist for her mill. And the bar. And god only knows what else.

And just who doesn't use other people? You, champ, every time you fuck someone new, you don't think about her as a candidate for a relationship, do you? Nope, it's just sex. You haven't really cared about any of them. Admit it, you love having them respond to your attention. But you don't care.

Well, okay, maybe Cindy. But she put you in your place, didn't she?

And Martha. But that's easy. You know she's gone in a couple of weeks, on a path that won't ever cross yours again unless you buy her CD.

*

Ascheim's cell was answered by his service. "Dr. Ascheim is on vacation. He asked that his calls be referred to Dr. Braum. Can I have her call you?" I hung up.

*

"Who's there?" Lisa called out after my fourth knock.

"It's Carl. I was stupid. Can we talk?"

She was leaning against the wall at the head of her bed, her knees folded against her chest. I sat at the end, feet on the floor, and strung sentences together, trying to explain.

"The first time I realized that people were talking about me, saying things that weren't nice, I got so scared. They were telling stories, making stuff up, putting mean interpretations on innocent things I said or did. When someone told me what was going around, I was frantic. Even though I did the same thing to other people, it scared me that they were believing bad things about me."

"Authors look at life differently," she soothed. "We don't make up facts to hurt the people we depict. Characters aren't real people, they're composites. We take pieces from many sources and roll them into a story.

"I made up the part about the yearning, and the waitress. It got me tingly when I realized that I, the waitress, was the object. I wasn't, of course, because you'd never been inside Lit, and I'd never seen you. Nobody ever said anything about a guy lurking outside, taking pictures."

I broke the silence.

"I'm sorry for what I said. It was stupid of me not to understand what you were doing. I should have asked, not reacted. Will you forgive me?"

She crept down the bed, took my chin in her hand, and kissed me softly.

"There's nothing to forgive. And yes, I will, I do."

*

Back in the apartment, I was still musing about Lisa and the story when Tom called. "You had dinner yet?"

"Nope, thinking about it, though."

"Good. I'll have the pizza delivered to your place. Half an hour?"

Tom and the pizza guy arrived simultaneously. He paid while I got the Sprites and we spread everything out on the coffee table. We chewed the first slices and made small talk. We'd started on the second round when he leaned back on the couch and sighed.

"You and Margery are friends, right?"

"Right."

"Good friends?"

"Yes."

"And you've dated?"

"Yeah, off and on, since the spring."

"But you're not involved, I mean, like, in a relationship?"

"No, friends is it. We like each other, have some things in common, and spend time together, when we can get the time, anyway."

After an awkward silence, Tom tried again.

"So you wouldn't, eh, care, I mean mind, if she and I, I mean, started going out?"

"No. I'm glad you and she hit it off."

"We had a great time at the picnic, and afterward. She has so much work to do, I don't know how we'll be able to see each other."

*

"Thank you." It was Monday, after work, Margery and I were in the Italian food court, decompressing. And it was only Monday.

"For?"

"Tom."

"You're welcome. Have a good time?"

"The best! But tell me, what makes you think he's superman?"

"What? I don't know what you mean."

"Eight condoms?"

"Oh, that," I blushed. "I, uh, didn't know who was going to end up with who, or even if. So I made up the envelopes, just in case you, or me, needed them. Was that okay?"

"Oh, that explains it. Yes, it was fine. You know I don't use them, never have, and I certainly don't have any. I was wondering, on the way back, how we were going to cope, since I wanted him to come to my room. You resolved what could have been a very awkward situation." She leaned over the table and kissed me on the lips.

We finished dinner and walked around the campus in the warm night air.

"I followed up on your advice, by the way," she said. "Carrie had already hired someone, which turns out to be just as well, because Carlucci wants me to go full-time for her. Everybody's pushing her. She will speak to my professors about how this will impact my classes.

"The RA director won't let me quit. I think she doesn't have any backups. She said that they enforce the fraternization policy only when they get a complaint, but it's still the policy, no relationships between RAs and students in their dorm. I'm not going to jeopardize my career by hooking up with any of the kiddies.

"So Tom is really important to me."

"Should we tell him about the club?"

"I was really up-front with him. I didn't tell him about the club, but I told him I live an open life, that I liked him and wanted to see more of him. He asked me if I was sleeping with you, and I said yes, but I emphasized that it was on a non-exclusive basis."

"I don't know Tom well enough to guess how he would take that," I said.

"He took it pretty well. He's had two relationships in the last three years but isn't ready to settle down either. He has to work all sorts of crazy hours to pay for his masters. He'll graduate next year, but right now he doesn't want to make a commitment. So we'll be fine.

"I'm not sure I want to introduce him to Lisa and Carrie right now. I want him for myself." She looked into her lap, demurely, then straightened up.

"This is all so new," she laughed nervously. "I barely dated in high school. Now I'm 21 and suddenly the club is a fading memory, and I'm thinking about how to juggle a couple of guys I like sleeping with."

*

Martha called just as the last Tuesday subject was leaving.

"Free for dinner?"

"Love to."

She looked a little stressed. "Charlie won't take charge. With Michael it was so much easier. He'd tell us what we were going to sing, made all the arrangements. Charlie's aloof, wants us to work things out among ourselves. We nearly had a slugfest on Sunday, but we got a compromise worked out. Or did until Monday, when Helen and Mike got into a huge fight over 'too much Bill Monroe.' It got ugly.

"Everybody calmed down after lunch, and your buddy Janice pulled us all together. She —"

"My 'buddy?' "

"Don't be coy. Yes, your buddy. We all loved the pictures, and she explained how you two selected them. Lit's already made up the poster for its front window and they've plastered flyers all over campus.

"And I'll bet every one of us, certainly me, already has their photo on their Facebook page." She smiled, and I preened.

"One of the things we've decided is that we're gonna feature her fiddle in the show. She's really into bluegrass and Charlie says there are lots of ways to work it in. What with me, Helen, Mike, and him singing, we'll have one kickin' show."

It was still light as we arrived at the apartment. We left our sandals by the door and I followed her into the bedroom.

"Oh, I've got something for you," she said, pulling a folded paper from her shorts. It was her STD report, announcing negative results on every test. She was grinning when I looked up.

"Thank you," I said softly as I pulled her to me. "You have no idea how much this means to me."

"And you have no idea how much this means to me," she said as she rubbed my cock through my shorts. She unzipped me, popped the button, and had everything on the floor and my cock in her mouth before I could respond.

I yanked my shirt off and she popped off my cock. "I'm going to blow you standing up, if you can handle it," she leered, and sucked me back into her mouth. I reached for the dresser to steady myself as she began to bob.

After a bunch of deep strokes, she focused on my cockhead, swirling her tongue around it, pulling off, then going deep again. When I was breathing hard and starting to feel really excited, she pulled off again.

"C'mon, cum, cum in my mouth," she crooned as she jacked me.

It was too much.

"I'm cumming Martha, I'm gonna CUUUUM! OH GOD!" and I pumped my hips at her face as I let loose with my load.

"Ummmm" she hummed and sucked everything down.

As she finished, I felt light-headed and lost my balance. She grabbed my hips and spun me toward the bed. I barely made it.

Somehow she got her shorts off, because suddenly her pussy was on my face. "Eat me! Fuck me with your tongue!" she demanded. "Make me cum!"

I licked, I sucked, I held her ass steady as I recovered and got into it. She was humping against me, supporting herself with her hands as she ground her pussy into my face. I found her clit and sucked it into my mouth, then pressed the nub against my teeth.

"OH GOD YESSSS, that's so good! Eat me, do it HAAARD!" she commanded. My tongue was getting tired, but I had to keep up with her.

Suddenly she leaned back, stiffened, and bellowed — FUUUUCK! Oh my god yes, fuck! Fuck! Fuck!" and she jammed her pussy wildly on my face.

Finished, she collapsed, then rolled off to the side. I was so close to being entirely gone that I let her go. Eventually I shifted so that we were face to face.

"You could kill a girl with your tongue, you know," she groaned.

"I never knew a piece of paper could be so erotic."

"You care that much?" She said, when she was breathing more calmly.

"I'm surprised. I was thinking about this the other night. The afterglow, when we're still joined, I don't like to have to remember to take care of the condom. I like to touch you, feel our heat fade away, and let my cock get soft and slide out. It's kinda selfish, I guess, but having to take care of the thing, it breaks the mood. Is that too lame? And shallow?"

"I never thought about it. You're my first condom-user, so I'm in learning-about-condoms mode."

She still had her shirt and bra on, so I pulled them over her head and they joined her shorts and panties on the floor.

"Where'd the verbal tiger thing come from?"

"Like it?"

"Oh yeah, but I wasn't expecting it."

"This has been one amazing two months," she said. "I break up with Michael, come to a place I've never heard of, to take music lessons from someone I've never heard of either. I arrive with a fantasy that he'll make me his lover and turn me into a star. Instead I find you and discover that everything I know about sex is, well, not wrong, just so limited.

"You taught me and then you let me go. Not like Michael, he wanted sex and control. I'm learning so much, so fast, it's like I'm re-inventing myself from a girl into a woman. It's scary, but I know it's the right thing to do.

"At the picnic, I wasn't sure whether it would be Evan or Francis, but when Evan sat next to me on the blanket, I figured, 'luck of the draw.' They're both nice guys.

"I started with the back rub because Michael got turned on by them. Evan leaned back into me, so I knew he was enjoying it. When Nick offered the tour and you and Janice took off, the four of us sang a couple of songs we knew. I saw that Helen and Francis were looking antsy, I think they were waiting us to leave, but Evan and I were getting into the back rub pretty good, so finally Helen grabbed a blanket and they took off.

"I rolled Evan onto his belly and straddled him. I pushed his shirt up and he reached back and pulled it off. I really got into kneading his arms and back. After a while he was moaning and I lifted up so he could turn over.

"Of course his cock was pushing his shorts out, like it was with Michael. He pulled me onto him and grabbed my ass and humped me, and I humped back. He pushed my shirt up and unhooked my bra, then slid his hands underneath and was squeezing my nipples just right.

"I got off him, pulled his zipper down, and he arched up so I could get his pants off. His cockhead was purple! I mean, not dark red, but purple! I must have been staring, because he reached down and wiggled it at me!

" 'You'll like it. Let's get you naked,' he said, and I realized that my shirt and bra were just hanging there. I tossed them away and he pushed me onto my back and jerked my shorts and panties down.