The Prisoner of Glenda

One night Brad accompanied me to the shop. I had told him about the girl (whose name I still did not know). He saw her and asked why I had not bedded her yet. It was obvious to him that she was interested in me. I pretended to ignore him but I was annoyed that he might want to compete for her. This exchange prompted me to ask her name. It was Denise. She lit up like a Christmas tree when I asked. I guess she was unsure if I liked her.

The next week the university hosted the Penn Relays, a series of track and field events drawing visitors from around the world. The Relays ushered in a weekend of parties across the campus. Brad made a comment that Friday afternoon that if I were not interested in Denise he would like a try. I lit into him, essentially reminding him that I was still pursuing her.

There is an unspoken, but strictly observed rule about this in our neighborhood. Friends do not hit on other friends girls. Once your friend has declared his intentions about a girl, she is off-limits. She stays off-limits until your friend says he is no longer interested. If the girl dumps you, she is still not available until you publicly release her. That is the way it was and Brad knew that.

His attitude about her bothered me. I felt I had to do something to stake my claim so I told him we had plans for the evening. Furthermore, I would appreciate it if he vacated the room for remainder of the night. I had not actually intended on seeing her that evening. Now I found myself at the deli making a date.

Denise showed up after work. I led her to a party in the rooftop lounge of our building. We danced to a few songs then sat down and immediately started kissing. I was still a virgin and relatively inexperienced, but I greatly enjoyed a good kiss. This girl was the most passionate kisser I had ever encountered. For the next 40 minutes, we were lip locked, oblivious to the party. I was in serious lust.

I broke our embrace to suggest we go to my apartment and she readily agreed. It was a short walk but seemed to take forever. I was nervous anticipating us getting naked and doing the nasty. When I closed the door, she was all over me. I barely had enough time to guide her to my bed.

I was kissing her more urgently now. My hands were roaming over her breasts. Oh what breasts they were! She was at least a C-cup with prominent nipples - very, very prominent and sensitive nipples.

I managed to get her blouse off and her bra followed quickly. She was still wearing a skirt and panty hose. I went for the panty hose. Denise had been completely into the kiss, but when I touched her inner thighs, she said no. I withdrew, resumed our kiss then waited a few minutes to try again. Again, she said no, but did nothing to move my hand. I withdrew a second time but my passion was building.

A few minutes later, my hand was at her mound. This time she said no and I ignored her. Massaging her over her panty hose, she finally relented as we both grabbed the waistband and pulled the offending material from her body. She said something about how she was not a virgin; she had been with one other person before. I registered only pieces of what she said. I was intent solely on sex at that point.

Her scent was strong. She unzipped her skirt as I was removing my last shred of clothing. Now lying before me was the first naked female body I had ever seen up close. I was beside myself. My dick was at full salute and my eyes locked on Denise's pussy.

Her pubs were shaven! Others might have found that enticing. I was a product of a prior time. Public hair excited me; a clean-shaven pussy was a slight let down. However, it was pussy.

Before diving in, I went to her breasts. I licked, sucked, and massaged both breasts. I never knew breasts could be so much fun. I could have played there all night. However, the pressure in my balls was building. I enjoyed pleasing her but I had to move on. I mounted her as she guided my dick into her pussy.

Ah, the feeling! My hand had never felt like this. My God, she was tight. Even if I wanted to start pumping like madman, her pussy would not permit it. I was forced to stroke slowly in and out. To my astonishment, I wanted to prolong this feeling. She was loosening and her body began to trust me. I was into a slow methodic rhythm with her adopting my dance.

Instead of crushing her chest, I rested on my elbows holding her shoulder blades with open palms lifting her torso to me so I could brush my chest across her breasts. I loved the feel of her nipples dragging just inches along my skin.

My eyes were closed as I pumped her. When I realized this, I opened them to see her faint smile. I kissed her. Alternatively, I should say I covered her with my mouth since the kiss went on for minutes. Our tongues were dueling, and then dancing, making our breathing that more difficult. Then suddenly I stiffened.

There was a violent spurt and then another. I did not go soft at once. I stayed in her not wanting to leave the warmth of her body. Her arms were now tight around my back. She wanted us to stay joined too.

After a few minutes, I began kissing her again. I was drained but wanted more. So I flipped us over so that she was poised above me. She rose up a bit and when her breasts came into view, my mouth drove for them locking her into position. She acted as if she were unused to being on top. She did not say anything but her expression left little doubt. However, my ministrations on her breasts seemed to overcome her concerns.

I was hard again; having receded from her, I now sought re-admittance to her body. This time I moved the head in place. I sighed as I greeted the warmth of her snug pussy. My hand on her flanks I started to direct her movements. When she was rocking sufficiently on her own, I pulled her face down on mine for another kiss. God I loved kissing this girl!

I do not know how long we were together like this. I could not tell you if I lasted all night or if I ejaculated in minutes. I had no concept of time. I marked only the events: the shifts in position, changes in breathing, rustling of sheets.

When we stopped and I remember closing my eyes as she whispered something about having my children. Her actual statement was long ago lost to me. I only recall the word 'children' distinctly.

I had not uttered a word since we began coupling. She might have thought I was sleeping. Her short speech jarred me to full consciousness. My mind reasserted its dominion. Oh, Shit! I had not used protection! She could be come pregnant. What had I done? I did not even know this girl. She was Denise; I never bothered to ask her last name. Where did she live? I had never been to her house. What had I been thinking? Shit! Shit! Shit!

I started imagining different scenarios. She became pregnant. We had the child. Abortion was out of the question. I married her of course. How would we live? Where would we live? Could I stay in school?

Denise was oblivious to my meanderings. She quietly went off to sleep, her head resting on my upper chest. I could not sleep nor could I look at her. I stayed awake the entire night.

In the morning she got up and showered, as I lay immobile, still pretending to sleep. She said something about going home, her mother thought she was at a girlfriends, she would see me later. By now, my eyes were open. I nodded as if half asleep. She dressed and left.

Panic ensued. Oh God, if you let me out of this I will never do anything like this again. What was I thinking? I did not love this girl. I did not even know her and she wanted a permanent relationship. Oh no. I felt sick to my stomach. I developed diarrhea.

That day I entered into a serious depression. I stayed in the apartment. When Denise showed up in late afternoon, I pretended to be away. I spied on her through the peephole in our door. She was wearing her catholic school uniform. My God, she was in High School! This only made me feel worse. Even so, I remained quiet and she left after a few minutes.

When the guys returned I gave them a story about how I wanted to avoid this girl. I asked them to cover for me. I was not to be available at any time for her. She did not have my phone number so I only worried about her showing up uninvited.

Brad was cracking up. He thought this entire episode was a riot. He hastily asked if he could make a play for her himself. Michael however, was uncomfortable with this game. He thought she was a nice girl and could not understand why I wanted to hide from her. In the end, he agreed to help me but he was not happy about it.

I felt like crap for doing this to Denise but I was too much of a coward to face her. How would I explain that I was carried away? I enjoyed our time together but she misunderstood. I did not want a relationship. Well actually I did, but not under those circumstances.

I never saw Denise again but my spinelessness in this affair shamed me. Weeks after we had sex I wrote her a letter trying to explain myself and asking her forgiveness. It was not my finest hour. I needed time to think about my behavior with her. The prospect of sex had led me to hurt someone. I did not think I was capable of such callousness but obviously, I was wrong. I would never allow this to happen again.

I returned to concentrate on my studies and closed out sophomore year with a 3.4 cum. Next year I was determined to earn a perfect 4.0. Without any distractions, that goal was obtainable.

We had lived in this same apartment for now two years. At the end of that 2nd year, Brad negotiated our move to another apartment in the building. This was remarkable since upper classman no longer had rights to student housing. The new suite had a different configuration. There were still two bedrooms but each room was much larger. Somehow, in the coin toss I still ended up sharing a room with him. It did not matter. I spent most of my time with my head in the books. I came up for air eight months later in March of 1981.

# # # # # # #

It was near dawn when I rolled out of bed. My bladder left before me pointing the way. As entered he corridor I saw a woman down the hall in a robe going into our bathroom. Who was that? It could not have been Glenda, this person was too tall and she was larger in other ways. Moreover, why was she coming from Michael's room? I slipped back into my own bedroom.

Brad was asleep but that did not matter. This was important, so I started to shake him ever so lightly.

"Hey Brad. Brad." I called, trying to keep my voice down. "Has Michael split with Glenda?"

Bradley was at first immobile, but with that last comment he rolled over with a frown on his brow and the beginnings of a smile on his lips. I continued.

"I just saw a girl coming out of Michael's room...and she was wearing a robe. She looked like she slept here."

"Oh", Brad said as he nodded affirmatively, partially to clear his head. "That's Gail. She's one of Glenda's roommates and her best friend. She's staying with us a while."

"What!?"

"Yeah, there's some problem with their other roommate and until that's straightened out Michael offered up his room. He doesn't sleep here much anyway. He's always at Glenda's, now he'll have reason to stay."

"Did he discuss this with you?"

"Yeah, somewhat. Hey, I'm sorry man I should have told you earlier."

I crawled back into my bed. This was an annoying development. Now I'm going to be sharing my apartment with some strange girl; and no one asked ME if it were OK. What kind of shit was this?

Lying in bed, I waited until I heard the toilet flush before resuming my journey. To say I was agitated was an understatement. Sharing my space with Michael and Brad was one thing, but a girl who I didn't know? This just wasn't going to work. But could I ask her to leave? Both Michael and Brad had evidently gone along with this. No, there was no point in making a stink. I determined to meet this girl and be friendly. She would only be here a short time, whatever that meant.

I woke again at 10am. It was Saturday morning -- laundry time. I showered, dressed and gathered up my dirty clothes. When I returned to our apartment, there were Brad and this girl talking in the front room.

"That's Andrew", he said obviously pointing me out. "Andrew come meet Gail."

I walked over towards the sofa putting on my best smiley face. I hoped I could pull off this act. I scanned the woman in front of me very quickly. Even though she was sitting, I could tell she was tall with long legs. She was light brown skinned, suggesting a Latin or southern European background. Her hair was long and very curly. It was gracefully lying across her shoulders. Even sitting I detected that she was a larger than average woman. She was not fat by any means. The word that best described her body was "lush", in the same manner as say, Marilyn Monroe.

When I saw her face, her eyes struck me. There were large pools accentuated by very dark eyebrows. She had a serious look about her and yet I saw softness in them as she watched me come closer.

Suddenly my smiley face was not fake anymore. I extended my hand in greeting. She shook it very quickly. Looking now at her hazel eyes and her smile I detected a fake comfort, an uneasiness with my presence. I wondered if I lingered too long on her body or ogled her during my approach. After that episode with Denise I wasn't known for subtly with women.

I began the conversation. "So Gail, how long will you be staying with us?" Perhaps not the best way to begin, but I needed to know. My tone of voice conveyed my disdain for this arrangement and she responded in kind. She was obviously offended.

"I hope to be here only a few more days. I'm trying to limit that time. Michael said it would be OK but I don't want to be anywhere that might cause more trouble."

Luckily, Brad chimed in changing the subject. I do not remember what he said, only the look on Gail's face. There was dislike, but worse, dismissal. She turned from me and began talking only on him. After a few minutes of being excluded from the conversation, I made my exit. However pleasing her appearance my only opinion now was that she was a bitch, and someone I would happily avoid in the future.

Back in my room, I absentmindedly opened my textbook while I replayed the few words said in our first contact. I certainly started us off on the wrong foot, bypassed all the standard greetings and asked the girl how long she was staying; and I did so in a manner that left no doubt I wanted her gone. She had not been a bitch as much as I had been a jerk.

Gail was not the problem. The problem was all women. After Denise, I had purposely built up a wall to hide behind. I did not trust myself around women. Female relationships were best kept on a casual or a professional level. I was to extend courtesy not empathy. I did not realize it then, but this was my self-imposed punishment for using Denise.

That night I resolved to be as nice to Gail as possible. My first impression had been poor but I did not want her to leave with that opinion of me.

Brad had said that Gail was to be our guest for a few days. Well those few days eventually became seven weeks! By the end of her stay, she had in effect become our third roommate. Contrary to my first impression, Gail Montoya was a joy to be around.

She made her statement immediately by putting fresh flowers on our dinning table. The kitchen and living areas underwent a facelift as she rearranged the furniture to allow for more space making those areas more open and inviting. Items in the common areas were placed neatly in locations where they belonged and found their way to our room when they did not.

One might get the impression from Gail that she came in and started taking over. That was not the case. She asked us about these things first, most of which were not issues that I had thought about much. It was her enthusiasm about her ideas that made us follow her suggestions.

I do not want to leave the impression that Brad and I were slobs. We were reasonably neat, at least by our own standards. However, occasionally we did have clothes left in odd places and our attention to dishes in the sink was minimal.

Once Gail was settled in, dishes were never left in the sink we got the message that leaving our clothes lying around was a definite no-no. She did not say anything specific. We simply complied with what we thought would make her pleased with us. How does a woman make such an impact so quickly? Simple. She cooked.

Gail cooked for relaxation and she asked if she could cook for us. Actually, she looked directly at me as she posed the request. I thought that having been the one to object to her stay that she was more sensitive to my feelings on the matter. Of course, Brad and I readily agreed. It was a decision that proved to be very significant. She was a fantastic cook!

With the aromas, emanating from our apartment word quickly got out on the floor that she was a very good cook. Our neighbors started reintroducing themselves at the elevators or in the lobby. Uninvited guests were constantly showing up for dinner. At first, they came for the food. Then they came for the cook.

The cook turned out to be both pretty and a lively conversationalist. She was curious about everything and could talk on just about any subject: one night the topic was anthropology the next night it might be horror movies, local politics, pet hygiene or food marketing. She was at ease in all these discussions. The guys were openly flirting but she was serious in these exchanges. She seemed to be either unaware of their advances or unmoved. However, when you wanted to see her eyes sparkle and catch that beautiful dimpled smile, just mention baseball. I found that out by accident.

One afternoon the Phillies had just lost to the Dodgers. As I changed channels on the TV, I made a few choice comments about the pitching staff. I was speaking to myself and I thought I was alone, that is until I heard Gail agreeing with me from her bedroom. We started to talk and I was floored by her knowledge of the game.

Like me, she had been to the seventh game of the World Series some six months before. She heard the pops from Carleton's fastball and lost her voice screaming as the Phillies won their first World Championship in 98 years.

She was so passionate in her opinions. She had been with us three weeks yet this was our first real conversation alone; it lasted almost 3 hours! During that time, we sat side by side on the couch as she shared her perspectives. She would often touch my arm or my hand as she emphasized a point. They were harmless touches but I was aroused with each contact.

Up to that time there were so many visitors in our apartment that I rarely had chance to speak one on one with her. My time was limited to assisting her in preparing dinner or in washing and drying the dishes afterwards. Even those tasks were performed mostly in silence, though I thought I caught her stealing glances at me quite often when we did. Now I learned that she was a baseball fan too.

I was beginning to really like this woman. I started to closely observe her every time I was in her presence. Of all Gail's qualities, the one that resonated most with me was her kindness. She was a kind person by nature; she was especially considerate of the vagrants that made their home in parts of the campus. I do not think I ever saw her pass a homeless person without offering some form of assistance. Sometimes it embarrassed others who were walking with her, but I was always proud to be by her side on those occasions.

When she was not in class or entertaining, Brad was there to monopolize her time. If he and I were competing for her attention, then he was winning that contest. In a way, I was glad for that but a part of me was also jealous and I felt I had no right to be. She was getting to me and it was frustrating.