Submission for Payment

The time for foreplay had passed and Cynthia wanted to fuck, she rolled over and started going through her nightstand for a condom. Buried in the bottom were two condoms of different brands, one was in a purple mini tube and the other in a standard package. Gave didn't need a sixth sense to know what she wanted; he took the purple one from her hand. He struggled to get it out of the package as the anticipation teased Cynthia into fits.

"Hurrr...rrieee!" Cynthia pouted in her sexiest pout.

She removed her own panties and sat with her head on the pillow. Finally the condom squeezed out of the package on to the bed, he picked it up and started to roll it over his penis. This was one of the sexiest moments of fucking for Cynthia, she didn't know why but the finality of watching a new lover roll on a condom and knowing that it meant he intended to fuck her made euphoria burn through her body.

He pulled her legs toward him bringing the pillow up the back of her head and forcing her hair band forward so it was almost on her forehead. After a bit of movement he positioned himself between her legs and brushed the hair that had fallen over her eyes back. He kissed Cynthia tenderly and deeply as the pair laid naked on her bed with him positioned right at her entrance; it was their first kiss. The kiss continued and morphed into a sloppy exchange of tongue and saliva at the same time his penis was poking around looking for an entrance to satisfy its strain.

Cynthia was in a state of bliss and joy; he was doing her just like she wanted to be done. The intensity of the kissing along with the slow teasing of her sex was almost too much to bear and little passionate moans escaped her lips between kisses. While they kissed, Gave began to enter her and he exhaled in satisfaction to show his approval of her intimacy. Once he was completely in, Cynthia wrapped her legs around his mid section and her arms around his body. Their closeness gave her the feeling of protection like this man that she had met mere hours ago loved her.

Cynthia's legs locked around him and she pulled him in as far as she could. The two bodies became one as he held this position and looked deeply and tenderly at his new lover for what seemed like an eternity trapped in a moment. The tension and the closeness of their intimate embrace was overflowing in Gave as he felt like he wanted to make love to Cynthia more than he had ever wanted to fuck anyone.

His hips started the motion and they picked Cynthia's body up off the bed and drove it back down and then again and then again. She released the grip of her legs and Gave started moving more freely. His thrusts were irregular and urgent. They would come in the form of hard pushes each one attempting to get even deeper into Cynthia's welcoming pussy. The tempo kept increasing until he was fucking her very hard. Cynthia's passion escaped in the form of squeals and moans; Gave grunted lustily as he showed his affection. Cynthia was looking more ragged after each thrust, her black hair band was now pushed up over her face taking her hair with it, her legs pinned to her shoulders and Gave's head buried between her leg and neck.

The pair didn't speak a word as the bed shook, it was a feeling that demanded no explanation, which they both felt. What started as a hook up was now conjuring up feelings of love and compassion for Gave, what seemed to start as a dream was now doing the same to Cynthia. Neither orgasm sparked the other; they both came unannounced at the same time. Cynthia's body was shaking when a weakened Gave collapsed on top of her; she accepted his weight and held him close to her chest. It went without saying that he would not be leaving and he fell asleep with his head warmly placed on her breast.

Morning came and the feelings still remained, they slept in on the Saturday morning exchanging more kisses than words. Everything felt right, like something magical had happened. When it finally came time to get up it turned out that Cynthia's roommate had made a rumor of herself by leaving before any awkward introductions could take place. Cynthia was embarrassed that all she had to offer for breakfast was the 100% fibre cereal and her roommate's milk, instead of making such a gesture she suggested that they go out. She went to her dresser and took the rest of the money that she had, money that was suppose to last a month and left the apartment with her new lover.

This really was all the money that she had, her parents sent her an allowance every month and by this time budgeting it was key to her survival. Emotions and new beginnings in young people can often put survival far down on the list of importance, this time it was bumped down by not wanting to look poor in front of Gave. If she asked him to pay for everything his opinion of her would surely fall, maybe he would even think that he had made a mistake. Cynthia inwardly stressed about these relationship economics but outwardly she was carefree.

The day ended with more lovemaking. Cynthia found herself falling head over heels. When it came time to part it was done with the most sincere of regrets, she almost felt like they had known each other forever. The moment he was out of sight a different feeling overcame Cynthia, this feeling was fear. She had spent all of the money she had; she wasn't just broke anymore, now she was dead broke. She was all at once reminded of the truth she had convinced herself before she became poor that boyfriends weren't for poor girls.

How could she have another day like the one she just spent? In her mind he would begin to see her as a burden if she got him to pay or worse he would see her as his property. He would think that she owed him everything and that he was above her. Lovemaking would become a duty rather than a desire. Cynthia shuddered at these thoughts and worked to push them out of her head.

For the next two days she waited on pins and needles for his call; on Tuesday evening it finally came. Talking to Gave was a wonderful stress relief, not only did they have physical chemistry but this extended to the mind. They talked for an hour before making a date for Friday night. The phone call put some air in her step and a tingling feeling in her pussy that extended to her stomach. She hadn't even thought about the money aspect of Friday night when the phone rang again, she hadn't really thought about anything or she wouldn't have picked it up.

"Cynthia T Rosen?" Came through the receiver emanating from the nasal drawl of a middle aged woman.

"Yes?" Cynthia answered stupidly and hesitantly. Almost before the affirmative answer left her lips she had her hand on the top of her head pushing down on her hair band in frustration.

"This is Sophie Rankenbult (pronounced with a blood) from the CHS Collection and Credit agency" The uninterested cold drawl continued.

"Miss Rosen, you said that you would close this account on the 5th, seeing that that is more than 2 weeks ago and we haven't been able to reach you I'm forced to believe that further action against your record is required. If you make payment by the end of business Friday I can hold off on this action, will payment be forthcoming?"

Cynthia could feel the sweat on the receiver, she wanted to just hang up and hope that somehow all this would go away. She didn't want to make any false promises she had no way of getting the money.

"I don't have the money, I'm a stude......."

"Well if you feel that you don't have to pay your debt you're digging yourself a nice little grave for the future, missy." The credit agent was now turning the screws on Cynthia. It was her job to get the money by almost any means necessary and the threat of having no future seemed to be the best weapon to use on students. Mrs. Rankenbult clearly knew which screws to tighten.

Through the silence from the other end of the line Sophie continued, "You see, missy. I have heard it all, I'm impressed by none of it and nobody is ever going to be impressed by your little tricks." Cynthia was sobbing noticeably now as she struggled to catch her breath, Rankenbult was undeterred.

"Crying isn't going to save you either. You made adult decisions and this is an adult world so make the payment or take the consequences; I don't care what you have to do."

"Yes, ma'am." Cynthia whimpered in an attempt to rid her from the indignity of this conversation.

"You say, "yes ma'am I'll pay you.' That's what I want to hear and then when I look at my accounts it will say that Cynthia Rosen pays her bills and might be worthy of a loan someday. Until that time keep your yes ma'am's to yourself!"

"Yes, ma'am. I mean I'm sorry. I mean I don't know what to say, I'm really scared"

"Well you should be scared and maybe you should get a job and pay your debts! This account is going into the red I'm not giving you until Friday because I don't think you're worth it. Am I wrong?"

"No, do what you have to do." Cynthia hung up the receiver and was now bawling her eyes out openly in a fit of frustration. Cynthia was mad at the credit agent for the way the woman talked to her, she was mad at the situation she was in and most of all she was mad at herself. She was the one that brought this on, it was her foolish decisions. She wanted to burn all of her clothes or splash them with paint, something to show that she was sorry so they didn't remind her of all her frivolous spending.

Cynthia had tried working before but had difficulty holding a job and going to school at the same time. The other thing was that the job she did get just didn't pay her enough money. She worked at the juice bar outside of the gym for a while but the minimum wage just wasn't worth the stress or the time away from her studies. Getting one of those jobs seemed like all that was available to her and that just wasn't going to be a solution.

She moved her hair band from the middle to further forward on her head so her hair covered more of her face picked up the phone and called her parents. This was the only place she had to turn, she had nothing to even come and go on, if she could only get her credit cards paid off then maybe she could get another one and possibly her chances with Gave wouldn't be destroyed. She had three credit cards that were past due, two had $5,000 dollar limits and the other was $1,500. Each seemed to have a team of creditors knocking at her door, with interest her total bill was over $12,000 and rising.

Her mom answered the phone but Cynthia thought better than to ask her. "Can I talk to Dad?"

"What is it honey?" Her mother asked with a both concerned and nosey intonation in her voice. She could tell something was wrong.

"I just need to talk to Daddy." She repeated using the more childish form of the title.

"What is it Sweetheart?" Her father's voice boomed through the line having picked up a phone in another part of the house while her mother was still on the line.

Cynthia was nervous but decided to jump in anyways. "I'm out of money, I don't want to bother you but I don't know what to do, I need a lot and I just don't know what to do, if you do I can pay you back and you can write it all down and I just need a little help." Cynthia rambled subconsciously putting on her best little girl voice she could find.

Her father took a stern voice "What happened to the money we sent you two weeks ago sweetheart?" Her mother jumped in his less sugar coating "Cynthia, we can't be sending you money in the middle of the month you get an allowance and that is what you need to live on, just what do you think we are?"

"I don't know, I mean it's not that I think anything, I just don't......."

Her father sensing that his "sweetheart" was being ganged up on naturally rose to her defense. "Ok, well just this time we will send you $500.00 and that should hold you for a little while."

"Thank-you daddy, I promise that I will pay you back."

"Why are you giving in to her? How is that going to help?" Her parents began to bicker as she excused herself from the situation.

This wasn't nearly what she was looking for, this wouldn't even pay off the smallest of her cards but she didn't feel in position to ask for more. She got $500.00 but the experience of asking for it made her feel awful, she knew that she couldn't ask for anything more. When the $500 came through her email it made her feel so low to accept it like she was stealing from her parents. This $500 came with a great deal of shame attached; Cynthia was already beginning to hate money.

Cynthia also knew that there was a good chance that her allowance wasn't coming on the 1st of the month either. It was with great pain that she cancelled her date with Gave. She didn't give him an explanation other than repeating that it wasn't his fault. Over the next three days he tried numerous times to call her but she was now not only avoiding creditors but someone she could have loved as well. The last time he called he left a rather nasty message about her not being who he thought she was and that he would never be calling again. Cynthia was devastated and almost inconsolable.

Going out was now not an option as the thought of running into Gave humiliated her beyond words. When she went to classes she wore her black hair band further forward on her head than she usually did to push her hair so it swept over her eyes. From behind her brassy blonde whispers of hair she felt protected. In this state of isolation her school work began to suffer. She had always been a bright and engaged student, as clueless as she was in the real world she had known her way around a classroom.

She was studying biology with designs on going to med school and one day being a radiologist. The problem was that her dreams were being shattered under the belief that she wouldn't even be able to get a student loan with her debts. Her ability wasn't in question but her mind was shattered by the doomsayers that held her credit score. She also felt like she lost the love of her life and even if this was obviously over dramatic it was way she felt. The night she spent with Gave she felt such a connection that to have to give it up was just a further sign that creditors were right: she had no future.

One afternoon as Cynthia was leaving class her professor stopped her.

"Miss Rosen, I would like to have a word with you in my office." His voice was demanding, he didn't ask her if she had anywhere she had to be; he was convinced of his importance.

"Yes, sir, do you mean now?"

"No, I have a few things to attend to but I want you to see me at 3:00. That's in one hour's time and I will be waiting for you."

Cynthia didn't know what to expect, she was surprised he even knew her name. The professor would give the lectures but all her interactions were with the Teacher Assistants (or TA's as they were known.) She didn't think that Dr. Webb did anything beyond the lecture. "Why on earth did he want to see me?" She thought to herself.

She didn't have anywhere to go so she waited on an old wooden chair that was in the hallway near his office. The faculty was housed in an old almost gothic building. Everything inside it seemed made out of wood and the outside crafted of stone. It felt like being in a church or a monastery, somewhere that strange rituals were performed.

Cynthia's eyes were not focused at the high gothic ceilings, but rather they were fixed on her feet. She was looking at the stains of white where the salt from outside had dried on her boots. She thought about how she hated these boots, how they made her look like a little girl. They were decorated with the outlines of flowers; they looked like they could be rain boots except they had winter lining. They kept her feet nice and warm but she couldn't help but think that she should be wearing a woman's boot, maybe something leather that went up to her knee cap. Thinking these random thoughts she stared at the white salt marks and turned them into patterns in her head; she saw ghosts made of smoke that faded into a maze with no beginning or end.

"Miss Rosen, we had an appointment." The voice of Dr. Webb woke her from her trance.

"The appointment is in my office not the hallway, please get yourself together." His voice wasn't angry but it conveyed the subtle message that he was not to be kept waiting.

Dr. Webb motioned with his hand for her to follow him to his office, it was only ten paces or so down the hall and he closed the door behind them. He waited for Cynthia to sit down and get uncomfortable; he wanted to make sure that she wasn't in her element. Over his many years of teaching he had become very familiar with students and knew how to always have the upper hand in interactions with them.

Dr. Webb was in his early 50's, his face gave the impression of a kind man but also one that didn't like to be bothered. His personality and position carried his aloofness well. The students didn't really know him but most had the feeling that they liked him and at the very least respected him. He had a quiet and slow way of delivering his words but each word was dispensed with purpose. On his face he wore what could only be described as spectacles, they had small round lenses that would often fall forward on his roundish nose. He was bald on top with graying curly hair that went around his head. His face and head fit his plump body that he concealed in sweaters; of which it seemed he wore a different one every day. His dress pants and shoes showed all the wear of someone who was not particularly concerned with his appearance.

Cynthia noticed all these details as he surveyed her from his rolling chair. His fingers were pressed together to almost make a scope of a rifle from which he had Cynthia locked in. She felt like she should say something but didn't know where to begin; she was trying to think of something to say anything to break the uncomfortable situation. She had no idea why she was there and didn't want to say the wrong thing and look silly or unintelligent. Webb's spectacles were down on his nose and he looked at Cynthia over the top of them. She was fidgeting with her hair band moving it further and further forward on her head. Just as he sensed that she was about to say something he began to speak.

"Young lady, what is the problem? I've noticed your performance has been less than I expected and even less than what it had been before recently."

Cynthia was like a deer in headlights. "I'm sorry." Was the best she could think of.

"It's not something to be sorry to me about. A student with your record and recommendations shouldn't be struggling in my second year biology class. I have lots of students every year and I always hope that I can do something for each one, I feel like I would be failing you if we didn't have this talk." His words were stern but kind, his voice never faltered as he delivered them with slow concerned tone.

Cynthia for her part was at a loss for words. What did he mean by my record? My recommendations?

"I'm struggling?" She managed to say as he continued to stare at her intently over his glasses and through the tips of his fingers.

"Young lady, you're capable of much better. It's not my job to make sure you achieve it; in fact it's not my job to make sure you do anything. Think of this as a friendly chat, a chat I don't have with all of my students. I've seen your record; it's impressive. Are my colleagues wrong about you? Because I've yet to see it in action."

"My record?" She couldn't believe that he even had access to that.

"I will tell you that the year moves fast from here on out, I'm not here to help you, I have too much of my own research for that, but I am here to tell you to help yourself."

Cynthia was becoming overwhelmed with emotion. Everything was going wrong and this was just one more thing. She felt like Dr. Webb really was taking an interest in her and she appreciated that but she felt powerless to reciprocate the gesture. The problem was that she didn't feel like she was in "it"; she already believed that her fate was sealed. There was something about the way the Professor was talking to her, it was like a concerned father figure. Finally she moved her hair band back exposing her entire forward to her teacher and exploded into an explanation accompanied by rolling tears.